Sagacity of the Existence
by Writerdragon
Summary: Megatron has been captured. Now all that is left to do is to round up the rest of them and bring them to trial. But something is amidst. The Decepticons are planning something and with the aid of the most unlikely of allies, they may just win. TFA.
1. Home

**I love the TFA series, but there was a lot of loop-holes that made me feel unsatisfied. I understand that the directors did that so the audience can make what they may of it. So, here's what I think it should have gone. This starts directly after **_**Endgame Part II**_**, and I will finish it within four "seasons" or fanfictions of mine. I'll try to keep the humor the same, but this will be darker than the series. I'm very macabre like that. It won't be **_**as**_** bad as what I would normally write, but it will be dark. I'll also add some stuff that I have found out about the proposed season four in this.**

**And I recently heard that there was a comic out for TFA. I had not read it or seen it. So I suppose this is an AU. *shrug* Does anyone know where I can find it?**

**BTW, happy holidays. :) You all be safe now.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p><em>Sagacity of the Existence<em>

Home

I

The roars of glee still rippled over the crowd continuously, making Optimus Prime and his band of misfit Autobots feel warm and proud all at once. Optimus turned to his friends, and gave them an approving nod of his helm as he had the firm grip on the Magnus Hammer. He then turned back to the crowd, and his optics landed upon the optics of Sentinel Prime—no, _Magnus_. The new Magnus frowned sternly before he approached the Prime, and they stared at each other for a stale moment; the roars of the crowd seemed to fade away. Sentinal's blue optics drank in Optimus' disheveled state—his cracked metal frame, faceplates, and glowing blue optics. His optics then landed upon the tall metal hammer that was gripped in the Prime's servo.

"Give me the hammer," Sentinel stated, offering his servo palm-up.

Optimus stared at the Magnus for a moment, and then complied after that long pause. The Magnus took the handle of the hammer, and gripped it tightly. Sentinel's optics then moved to stare at the Allspark Matrix that hung from the Prime's neck. The shards of the Allspark glowed softly.

"Are those shards of the Allspark?"

"Yes," Optimus answered.

"Give it to me."

Optimus narrowed his optics, staring at the strong-chinned Autobot Elite Guard. Sentinel twitched angrily, and held out his palm roughly.

"That was an _order_, Optimus," the Magnus hissed, gritting his dentals together.

The Autobot turned his helm to his friends, and they gave him uncertain stares. Optimus then rotated his helm to Sentinel, and he removed the Allspark Matrix from his neck, and gave it to the Magnus. Sentinel snatched it from Optimus' docile grip, and placed it upon his own neck. Sentinel then turned to stare at the large Decepticon—_Megatron_. Red optics glared daggers at the Magnus, and Sentinel smirked. Lugnut and Shockwave stood off to the side, not daring to look at the Magnus. Sentinel shifted under Megatron's hard stare, and his frown only thickened.

"Good job," Sentinel muttered to Optimus.

"Thank you," the blue and red Autobot stated.

Sentinel bobbed his helm, and turned around, waving down his hand to call upon the Elite Guard members to take Megatron, Lugnut, and Shockwave into custody. The crowd continued to cheer as they watched Megatron, Lugnut, and Shockwave be led away and into another ship to be sent to jail to join the others that had been caught, and to await their trial. Megatron continued to glare at the audience, and when the ship's door sealed him and the captured Decepticons away, the cheers got louder. Optimus moved over to the encased shell that held Prowl, and the Autobot rested his hand on top of the glass.

"Our friend needs to be put to rest," the Prime stated firmly. "Please, where can we put him before we send him to his final resting place."

Sentinel stared at Prowl's monochromatic shell, and just stared at him for a moment. The ninja had gone offline? Blinking his optics, he gave a curt nod of his helm, and he led the way to the main building of the Elite Guard. They walked along, the wonderful cacophony of happy noise echoed in the alien atmosphere, and they moved to the large building (the Metroplex, the large building that held the High Council meetings). Autobots were still cheering as they entered the building as the cheering started to die slowly as the others got out of reach of hearing the audience. Sentinel was deathly silent as he walked along—his hand still gripping the Magnus Hammer tightly. His metallic mouth was a flat line, and his optics was dark despite their bright colour. Not a single person—or 'bot—spoke. Sari looked down at Prowl's still body, a frown behind her faceplate. She had lost her friend and mentor. The techno-human looked away, still unable to look at him out of the sadness she felt for losing him. Her hands gripped the handles of her jetpack as she moved along. Sentinel approached a door, and after he punched in some numbers on a pad, those said doors opened.

"Medics," the Magnus called roughly.

Two femme Autobot medics came from the room, and approached him. One femme's model was a pale green and a darker shade of green along the sides. And the other femme's model was a pure white with stripes of silver on her helm and hands.

"Yes, sir," the green femme said.

"Do we have any more room downstairs for spark-less shells?" he asked.

"I will go check," the white one replied as she went to a computer and started to type away. "Yes, we have some room. Five slots."

Sari glanced within the room the femmes were in, and noticed it was like a repair shop. Autobots that varied among sizes sat on berths, and all were getting treated for their wounds. Medics—both male and female Cybertronians—moved about on the hard metal floor. Sentinel turned to Optimus, and looked at the Autobot.

"You look horrible," Sentinel stated, a frown still stretched across his faceplates. "Get in there and get fixed up."

"Thank you," the Prime stated. He turned around, approached Prowl's spark-less shell, and silently paid his respects for a few kliks before he went into the repair room.

The green femme smiled at Optimus as she led him along. Sentinel frowned, and closed the door as he walked away from the room. "This way," he called to the other Autobots.

Ratchet groaned, but moved along. Arcee, who walked along beside the older robot, turned to look at him worriedly. "Are you okay, Ratchet?" she asked gently.

He grunted as his optics turned to look at her worried-filled ones. He forced a smile on his faceplates, and then shrugged his large shoulders. "Hey, it's nothing—I'm fine," Ratchet said, staring at the femme softly.

A frown creased her metal lips. She, reluctantly, let her worry subside. Her gaze then landed on Sari—the first organic she had ever met. Ever since she had awoken from her long-time stasis, she was curious about what she had missed. And mostly, she was curious about the planet she was on before. Arcee reached out with her slender servo, and gently scooped up the levitating techno-organic. Sari let out a gasp, and her jetpack ceased to work and her faceplates vanished. She glanced to Arcee with a surprised expression, who smiled down at her gently.

"Are you okay, Sari?" she asked.

Red brows furrowed, and the techno-organic turned back to Prowl's spark-less body. "Just a little sad," she whispered.

Arcee glanced at the ninja body, her optics taking in his elegant and perfect model. "He seemed like a nice mech," she whispered in return.

"He was," Sari said, her fingers lacing together. "You would've liked him."

Acree stared at the little organic in the palm of her servo. This little femme seemed like she was very close to this mech, and she was in a lot of emotional pain. Bumblebee rotated his helm to look at his dear friend, and a frown creased his faceplate. It looked as if he wanted to say something, but he had refrained from doing so. The pink femme Autobot continued to cup the human in her palm, held her to her chest-plate near her spark, and she decided not to speak—just let her actions do the talking. Ratchet watched with a stiff-lip, and continued to follow the young Magnus. Sentinel would glance over his shoulder plating, and stared at the group of Autobots. He seemed peeved and mad—like his ego had been bruised or something. He shuffled his pedes, and his movement picked up speed.

After a few levels, they reached the underground levels of the building. Each shell-resting level was marked in Cybertronian—Arcee read each level name to the inquisitive Sari, who still sat in the palm of her hand. After _Alpha_, _Minor_, they reached _Beta_. _Beta_ level was where Prowl's shell would be rested until further notice. Sentinel tapped his digits on the keypad, and the large metal doors opened up. The room inside had rows of empty shells sealed within large metal and glass containers—all unfortunate Autobots. Sari gasped, realizing just how many lives had been lost during the fighting against the Decepticons. Arcee, Ratchet, Bumblebee, Bulkhead, and even Jazz looked astonished by the body toll. Sentinel turned to the Autobots holding Prowl's empty shell, and arched a metal brow.

"There are five slots," he muttered. "Pick one and put him away."

The Autobots that held the container moved forward, and searched for a proper spot to place their friend. Sentinel's optics turned to stare at Sari, who was still sitting in Arcee's palm quaintly. He let out a disgusted growl, and she arched a peeved brow to him. He turned his helm from her, and she smirked at him smugly. She then turned to stare at her friends placing Prowl's body away, that smirk of hers fell from her lips as a frown took its place. She was going to miss him.

"We'll be back for you, buddy," Bumblebee said, resting his servo upon the large case that held Prowl's shell.

"Yah, mech," Jazz said, staring at his fellow Cyber Ninja.

Ratchet's blue optics turned to stare at the white-silver Autobot, and he patted Jazz's shoulder plating comfortingly. Jazz smiled slightly, and bobbed his helm.

"See ya, Prowl," Bulkhead said as he walked away from the shell, his helm slumped.

"You were a good kid," Ratchet stated, following Bulkhead.

One by one, the Autobots left after saying their goodbyes and left the room, Sentinel Magnus closed the doors. There was an awkward silence before the new Magnus cleared his voice.

"I suppose the Council will want to talk to you," Sentinel muttered.

"When?" Bumblebee inquired.

"I don't slagging know," the Magnus snapped, staring at the yellow Autobot hard. "I suppose I should go meet with them . . ."

"So, should we stay here for the night?" Bulkhead asked, tapping his fat digits together.

"Yes," the Magnus grumbled, his digits were drumming on the handle of the Magnus Hammer. "I will find a suitable place for you, your friends, and your—_organic_ filth."

Sari growled, her little fists gripping her dress. "I'm not filth, _Sentinel_," she hissed, the little hairs on the back of her head stood erect. "Knock it off with that racist crap, okay?"

"That's _Sentinel Magnus_ to you, _organic_," the large blue Autobot sneered, his optics narrowing at the redhead in Arcee's palm.

"Hey, c'mon, leave her alone," Bumblebee quickly said. He glared at the strong-chinned Autobot before him. "Why don't you try to can it, eh?"

"Watch it, _Bumble_bee," Sentinel growled, stepping forward to make the smaller Autobot. "Remember your place, you Elite Guard wannabe."

Bumblebee's faceplates twitched violently, and before he could say anything, Jazz quickly slipped in between them—suddenly becoming the peacemaker. "Hey, SM and BB," he said in a cool voice. "Let's all jus' relax, yah dig?"

Bumblebee and Sentinel turned to stare at Jazz, who kept silent but smiled coolly at the two. The smaller yellow 'bot shook his helm, and looked to Sari, who smiled and had a faint blush about her dark cheeks. She mouthed a "thank you." Bumblebee shrugged in return as he approached the pink femme that was holding her. Offering his hand, Sari stepped into it and the smaller 'bot placed her upon his shoulder plating.

"Um, perhaps we should check on Optimus," Bulkhead quickly suggested.

"Sounds like a plan t'me," Jazz said, and he slowly turned to stare at his boss. "What do yah think, SM?"

Sentinel let out a huff from his rumbling engine. "Fine, let's go see him," he muttered, and he strode away, going back to where Optimus Prime had been left. The others soon followed.

Sari rubbed at the back of her head, and voiced a sigh. "What crawled up his pipes and died?" she muttered, crossing her slender arms over her chest.

"Eh, it's SM," Jazz said in a nonchalant fashion as he shrugged his large shoulders. "Jus' the usual."

Bumblebee then perked up, and leaned in close to Sari. "Maybe he's mad because we caught Megatron and he didn't," he snickered.

Bulkhead chuckled deeply. "Sounds like something he would do," he said.

Sari lightly grinned at the thought. "Probably, I wouldn't be surprised," she mused.

Ratchet moved slowly, and Arcee walked shoulder-to-shoulder next to him. She moved closer to him, and spoke in a soft voice: "Does he always act like that?"

Ratchet arched a metallic brow, and then let out a snort. "Arcee, you have no idea," he muttered. "You've only seen a little of the extremely annoying qualities that 'bot has."

* * *

><p>"Ow. <em>Ow<em>."

"Sorry," the medic whispered as he welded the sensitive faceplates together to banish the deep cracks that etched his face.

Optimus tried to keep still as the dull throbbing of pain pulsated through his body. Circuits were flaring, and his gritted his dentals to minimize the pain. The nurse continued to weld the metal closer together—though it seemed that there may be scars left. Maybe. Well, if the nurse continued to do his work perfectly, he could succeed.

"I'm almost there, sir," the medic stated, his hot welder creating sparks of yellow and white.

Optimus only hummed. He twitched as the welding warmed his faceplate together—the cracks were becoming thinner and thinner. The Autobot leader glanced around, watching the nurses tend to their patients. There were still Decepticons out there, and the war hadn't _really_ stopped, it was only on hiatus.

"Hey, Boss-bot," called a familiar voice.

Sky-blue optics turned up to see his friends approaching him, and Sentiel was not too far behind. A shy smile tugged at the corners of Optimus' mouth.

"Hello," the red and blue Cybertronian stated calmly.

"Hey, kid, how are you feeling," Ratchet asked, placing his hands to his metallic hips.

"Better," Optimus responded as the nurse continued to work. "Is Prowl's . . . shell in a safe place?"

"Yeah, he's safe," Sari responded, her hands on her lap. "He's okay. He's in _Beta_ level."

"Good," Optimus said, tapping his digits on his lower servo. His blue optics turned up to stare at Sentinel. "How is Ultra, Sentinel?"

The strong-chinned Autobot narrowed his optics at the 'bot before him. "His condition is critical, but stable," he answered. "He still hasn't awaken from his stasis—he's still in the Cybertron Central Unfirmary."

A cold chill ran around in Optimus' hard drive, and his optics turned away from Sentinel. Ultra was still considerably damaged, and there may be a chance that he may go offline. That was a horrifying thought to think. His chassis shuddered, and his hand ran across his upper servo. He didn't know what to say—how could he respond? Sentinel shifted, and cleared his vocals.

"Well, I'm going to talk to the High Council," Sentinel stated. "I'm pretty sure that they would _love_ to speak to you and your lackeys." The group glared daggers at the Magnus, and he shifted as his grip on the Magnus Hammer tightened. "I'll go do that after I show you your rooms, I suppose," he muttered, tapping his pede on the hard floor. "I hate being the chauffer . . ."

Jazz peered over, and shuffled his pedes across the hard floor. "Hey, SM," he began, a smile tugging at his lips. "I can show 'em to their rooms, if yah like."

Sari whirled her head slowly around, because she could feel the piercing stares of the Autobots behind her. They were staring at her, slack-jawed and optics wide. Some of them were muttering amongst each other while they looked directly at her. She did not say a word, but she bit her lower lip, only imagining what they were saying about her. Sentinel let out a grunt, and gave a single bob of his helm.

"Fine, Jazz, show them to their rooms," he said roughly. "I'll go speak to the Council." He looked at Optimus for a moment, and then he was gone.

Optimus frowned, and the doctor had paused in his welding. His optics was upon the human perched upon Bumblebee's shoulder, and he had just focused on her. Sari shifted uncomfortably under his stare, and she frowned sternly.

"Would you quit staring at me?" she snapped the question.

The medic flinched, his stare piercing. He turned to stare at the yellow Autobot, and spoke: "Why do you have that _thing_ touching you?"

Bumblebee rolled his optics, and a displeased grunt could be heard from Ratchet. "First off, everybot," the yellow Autobot said, shifting to stare at all the medics and Autobots that were within the room, "organics aren't filthy, and they can't spew any slime or whatever you've all heard."

The Autobots shared stares, until one spoke: "But Sentinel Magnus said—"

"He lied," Ratchet said around a scowl. "He's just putting his own lackadaisical attitude with organics on the public."

"Yeah," Bulkhead said with a smile. "Organics are fine."

Sari nodded her head curtly, and her arms crossed over her chest. "If anything, we organics are more lethal to each other than to you," she said. "You can't get affected by organic diseases."

It seemed as if the Autobots were trying to process the information that had been thrust upon them. Some spoke to each other in side-mouthed whispers.

"And, besides, some organics even helped fight the Decepticons," Ratchet said, crossing his arms over his chest-plating. "Like Sari here and others back on her planet."

That seemed to won them over. Ratchet gave a light smirk as the Autobots looked to Sari with pleased and surprised expressions. Acree reached across, brushing her nimble servo across Ratchet's shoulder-plating, and they met with a stare. She seemed befuddled.

"What were they talking about when they were saying that organics are filthy?" she whispered the question.

"Err, just Sentinel being a glitch," Ratchet muttered, waving his hand in the air dismissively.

Arcee blinked her optics, stared at the older Cybertronian for a moment, and then looked away to stare at Sari. Some of the Autobots that were either medics that had completed their work or patients well enough to move approached Bumblebee and Sari, and asked questions. The once hatred for the little organic perched on the yellow Autobot's shoulder-plating was now replaced with curiousness and interest. One Autobot with a model similar to Bumblebee's stood off in the distance. His surprisingly bright green optics stared at the organic with apprehension as he held his data-pad ridiculously close to his chest-plating. It looked as if he wanted to ask a few questions, but he kept silent and watched the group from afar, like he was shy or something like that. He noticed Ratchet's stare, and quickly turned away from the older Autobot, and pretended to be very interested on what was on his data-pad. However, his green optics would glance up from his data-pad at to Sari and Bumblebee.

"So, you organics, what is your species called?" asked an Autobot. "Humans, right?"

"Yes, _homo sapiens_—human," Sari said with a smile tugging at her lips.

"You're so small," a femme said, waving a pointer digit in the air. "Are all you organics small?"

"Maybe to you, yeah," Sari answered. "But organics in the past were bigger than you."

"What were they called?" asked a mech.

"Dinosaurs," she replied.

She spoke on about ancient organics and her world, meanwhile Optimus' medic was applying the finishing touches to the Prime's metal frame. "There, all done," he said to the Prime.

Optimus rubbed at his fresh-looking metal frame, and smiled. "Thank you," he said.

The medic nodded his helm. "Be careful next time, Optimus Prime," the medic stated with a small smile.

"Will do," the Prime said with a grin.

Optimus stood up, and stretched out his arms and servos. He felt better, though his body still ached. A good night of sleep would do his body well.

"How you feel, kid," Ratchet asked.

"Better," Optimus Prime answered. "I just need a good night of sleep."

"Yeah, I think we all do," Bulkhead stated, rubbing the back of his helm with his large claw.

"Then let me show yah t' yah rooms, eh?" Jazz asked, a smooth smile forming on his lips. "Does that sound good?"

"Yeah, it does sound good, kid," Ratchet muttered, rubbing his cheek tiredly. "We're beat."

Jazz chuckled. "Sure thing," he said, turning on his heel, and approached the doorway. He paused, and turned to stare at the others. "OP, you okay?"

Optimus Prime stretched out his body, and his optics met with Jazz's sky-blue visor. "Yeah, just stretching," he said. "Let's get going. Bumblebee? Sari? Time to go."

Bumblebee and Sari turned to the group of friends, and Bumblebee bobbed his helm. "Coming," he called. He turned to the group, and beamed. "Hey, we gotta split. We'll answer your questions later if we see you again. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure," one mech stated.

"Sounds good," another said.

"Alright, then, see ya!" Bumblebee stated, waving his servo goodbye and him and the techno-organic followed the others out of the ward.

Green optics watched them leave, and their owner felt ashamed that he had not gone up to them to speak to them. His digits rubbed against his data-pad, and frowned deeply. He hated being so shy. Ion was right: he had to get some 'bot skills.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, just so you know: I loathe Sentinel Prime (he does not deserve to be called "Magnus," only Ultra can be called that). So I'm going to do all sorts of torturous crap to him. I won't kill him, though.<strong>

**Killing is too good for him. He should be tortured. By organics—by birds. Attack of the birds.**

**Also, I'm going to use a lot of the Cybertronian terms, but with anatomy, I wasn't so sure. But here's what I am going with:**

**arms: arms**

**legs: legs**

**servoss: hands**

**Pede: foot**

**Digits: fingers**

**Optics: eyes**

**Helm (informal: head): head**

**Audios: ears/hearing**

**And there are others. I'll list them later.**


	2. Oil It Up

Oil It Up

II

The room was moderate for the Autobots, but ridiculously large to Sari. Everything was made of metal; the floor, the ceiling, the desk at the west of her, and basically everything else. This was Cybertron after all, and all they had was metal. It was strange not seeing trees or grass, but this world made metal look _good_. There were several berths off to the side, and Ratchet was already sitting upon one. To the right was a large, thick-glassed window that gave a wonderful view of the city they were currently in. The soft luminescent glow radiated upward, making the scene warm and wonderful. Sari glanced outward, staring at the tiny Autobots below.

"Wow, what a drop," Sari whispered, her slender hands gripping Bumblebee's yellow plating.

A large servo came up, cupped her, and with a fast reaction, the yellow Autobot jumped back, earning a yelp from Sari.

"Saved your life!" the Autobot quipped happily.

Sari clutched her chest, and wheezed heavily. She glared up at him, and a scowl etched its way on her face. "Don't ever do that again," she hissed through parted lips, and her knuckles rapped him on the helm.

Bumblebee laughed, placing his hand to his helm. "Just playin', Sari," he said. "You look a little gloomy. Just wanted to play with you." He gave her a playful nudge and a smile.

She looked up at her dear friend, and nodded her head. He just wanted to play—that was all. Cheer her up a little. Sari smiled up at him. "Thanks, Bee," she said, patting his plating.

Bulkhead shuffled over to a berth, and flopped onto it happily. "Oh, it feels so good to lay down," he murmured, resting his large servos onto his stomach-plating.

"Tell me about it," Ratchet muttered as he rubbed at his shoulder.

Jazz, who stood at the doorway with arms crossed, chuckled. "Hope yah dig th' joint," he said. "Anything else you need? Energon? Some oil?"

"Oil will do just fine, thanks," Optimus answered with a smile.

Jazz turned to Sari, and sheepishly smiled. "Hey, lil' lady, I don't got anythin' for you," he said, frowning. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure what yah organics eat."

She smiled, and shrugged her shoulders. "I'll be okay, we'll be going home soon," Sari said, waving her hand down. "Besides, I ate a lot back home."

Jazz bobbed his head, but he continued to stare hard at her. "Fine by me." He paused, and looked her over. "Yah know, I may be trippin', but yah look different," he said, wagging a digit at her.

Sari chuckled as she rubbed at the back of her head. "Well, you're not trippin'," she said sheepishly. "I do look different."

"What happened?"

"Difficult to explain."

He nodded his helm, but his gaze did not drift from her. "Okay, then, ya'll can tell me later," he said, and then he smiled. "I'll go get that oil for ya'll."

"Thanks, Jazz," Optimus said.

He smiled a winning smile before he left the room. Arcee smiled as she took a seat next to Ratchet. "Nice mech," she said softly.

Ratchet stared at her for a moment, and his engine let out a groan. "Yeah, he's a nice kid," he said offhandedly, and his servo grasped his aching wound from war.

Bumblebee shifted, and then turned to stare at Sari, who was still perched on his shoulder. "Hey, wanna look around this place," he asked in a low voice as he swirled a digit in the air.

She met his optics, and smiled. "Sure, but don't you want some oil?" Sari inquired.

"Naw, I'll be fine," he said, grinning. The yellow Autobot then turned up to stare at the others. "Hey, guys, Sari and I are going to look around."

Bulkhead's helm came up, and he looked at his smaller friend. "Don'tcha want some oil?" he asked.

"I'll tell you the same thing I told Sari: I'll be fine," he said as he approached the sliding metal doors. "C'mon, Sari."

"Right," she said, shifting on his shoulder.

"Don't get lost," Optimus called.

"We won't!"

* * *

><p>"So, Optimus Prime and his crew captured Megatron, Shockwave, and Lugnut?"<p>

Sentinel twitched as the old Autobot called Alpha Trion stared down hard at him. The Magnus' grip on the Hammer tightened, and he gritted his dentals. "Yeah, the Decepticons are now in custody," he muttered.

The High Council shared stares amongst each other. All were silent, but their evident body language was obvious—they were happy. Megatron had been captured, and catching the rest of the Decepticons would be easy. The aged Autobot blinked his optics, and he laced his digits together. Perceptor was at his side, and as always, his face was swept of all emotion.

"And is it true that the Autobots had help from Earth organics," the head of the Ministry of Science asked in his highly auto-tuned voice.

"Ye_aaah_," Sentinel shivered, not daring to look at the scientist.

"Wait a minute," Cliffjumper called from his stand—the stand where Longarm Prime used to stand. "Filthy organics help defeat the Decepticons?"

"Then . . . perhaps they're not as bad as we once thought," Botanica whispered. She was the only femme of the group. Her lithe model stood perfectly straight—proud and feminine. "If they helped defeat the Decepticons, we must thank them."

"Indeed," Perceptor stated, "they fought in a war they did not need to fight in."

Wheeljack, who stood behind the slender Autobot, gave a curt nod of his helm. "Yeah, I mean, they did not have to do that," the scientist stated knowingly. "All of you are correct."

"Sentinel, what are the names of the humans that helped with the defeat of the Decepticons," Alpha Trion asked, arching his slender digits.

"I don't know," he answered roughly. "Ask Optimus as his band of Autobots. They know. They've lived around those slagging organics, not me."

Alpha Trion's optics narrowed on the younger and cruder Autobot before him. For this Autobot to become Magnus was a kind of blasphemy; some_bot_ like _him_ should not take over for Magnus. If anything, Optimus Prime would be a better choice. His hand twitched, and he reached up to stroke his metal facial beard. "Well, I want the names of the humans that aided us," he stated firmly. "We want to give them our eternal gratitude."

"Fine," Sentinel groaned.

"Oh, and by the way . . ."

"_Yes_?"

"Have you seen Agent Blurr?"

Sentinel snapped his helm up. His face was flushed with perplexity and confusion. "Isn't he here on Cybertron?" he asked.

"No, we haven't heard from him," Cliffjumper answered quickly. "We thought that he was still back on Earth."

"Last I heard, he was sucked through a space bridge," Sentinel stated.

The High Council grew deathly silent, and each member glanced at each other in surprise.

"How did that happen, Sentinel," Alpha Trion growled out the question.

"Oh, yeah, like I'm supposed to know," he hissed right back.

"It is your _job_ to know, Sentinel _Prime_," the head of Civilian Guilds stated in a deep, anger-laced voice.

"It's Sentinel _Magnus_ to you, old mech," the dark blue Autobot said in an icy voice. "Remember your place. You're just a civilian."

"And if I weren't, I'd make sure that you would have _never_ been Magnus."

A cold chill ran through the Magnus' circuits, and he gritted his dentals hard as his optics glared daggers at the old mech before him. Alpha Trion's digits gently grazed the top part of his servos, and his optics were on Sentinel hard—if he were to glare any harder, he would have burned a hole through the Magnus' chassis. His gaze then landed upon Cliffjumper.

"Cliffjumper, run a scan to find Agent Blurr's energy signature, if you please," he said calmly, his optics still on the strong-chinned Autobot before him.

"Yes, sir," he said. His fat digits tapped at the keyboard, and he kept his gaze hard on the monitor. After a while, his expressions shifted into one of pure surprise. "Um, sir, according to this, he is in the Metroplex."

"Is that so?"

"That's what the computer is saying."

Sentinel smirked broadly, and he arched an optic ridge to the older mech. "See? He's just fine," he stated.

"But I have not seen Blurr in solar-cycles," Cliffjumper stated, his digit tapping at the monitor. "He can't be here." He pulled back his hand, and continued to stare at the screen. "That can't be right."

"But we must assume that the computer is right and search for him," Preceptor stated curtly.

"Good idea, Perceptor," Alpha Trion said. "Ion. Atomspark."

Two Autobots came from the background, and saluted the old mech; both worked under Wheeljack and Perceptor . Ion, the teal green and white femme, stood tall and proud. Her model was sleek as was her facial features; her high heel pedes tapped at the floor as she walked. A tiny smile tweaked at the corners of her mouth as she looked up at Alpha Trion. Endless blue visor-covered optics stared at the older mech with a sense of duty and honor, and her pointed helm framed her face perfectly. Where her elbows and knees would be, there were wheels that would make her extremely flexible and bendable. At her right was a taller Autobot mech with a red, purple, and grey colour scheme. His model was not as sleek as hers, but sleek as a mech's model could get. His face was broad with a strong chin-line and thick neck with a patch of grey similiar to a human soul patch was placed under his chin. On his heels were his wheels, which stuck outward like spurs, and under his arms (tucked under into his chest cavity so it would not cause friction under his arms) were his other wheels, which could easily be spotted. His optics was blue, like most Autobots, and his helm was sleek and pointed backwards and slightly curled under.

"Yes, sir," Ion said.

"Would you be so kind as to search for Agent Blurr?" he asked kindly. "I know it's not your job, but we would appreciate it if you did."

"Hey, not a problem," Atomspark said with a boisterous grin.

"_Hey_!"

All turned to the nearly-forgotten about Magnus, who was standing on his stand, steaming. "You forget that I'm Magnus here, and I make the orders," he snapped out, jabbing a digit to his chest-plating. "You two!" He pointed to Atomspark and Ion. "You bunch of bolts go search for Blurr!"

Ion and Atomspark shared a deadpanned stare, and both frowned deeply. The femme crossed her arms across her chest, and turned away from Sentinel, peeved and angered. She didn't like him. Not one bit. Rather, she found him to be an extreme nuisance. Atomspark thought the same thing.

"Hey, not a _problem_," Atomspark repeated, his voice now drained from emotion.

"Then _go_!"

Atomspark and Ion then shared another stare, and both left the room side by side. The tall Autobot mech leaned in close to his femme friend, and muttered:

"He abuses his power so much."

To which the femme replied:

"I know, right?"

Of course (and luckily), that had not reached the Magnus' audio receptors. Alpha Trion narrowed his optics at the current Magnus, and then he looked to the Allspark Matrix that hung around his neck. "Wasn't Optimus Prime wearing that," he asked, motioning towards the heavy object.

"Yeah, but I made him give it to me."

"What's in it?" Botanica asked.

Sentinel twitched. He had "forgotten" to mention the fact that the Allspark had been destroyed and that there were shards of it everywhere back on Earth. He tapped his pede on the floor, and gritted his dentals.

"Well, here's the thing . . ."

* * *

><p>Jazz practically slid into the room with cans of oil resting upon a metal platter, which then was placed perfectly on white digits. He grinned, and held up the platter for all to see. "Oil up," he called.<p>

"Oh, thank Primus," Bulkhead said, practically rolling off his berth and moved to the Cyber Ninja bearing the beverages.

"Thanks, Jazz," Optimus said, taking his own can as the others approached.

The Cyber Ninja glanced around, searching for the human and the yellow Autobot. "Hey, where's BB and littl' lady?" he asked.

"Oh, they went to look around," Bulkhead answered. He held the can to his mouth, and guzzled the drink inside. He pulled the can away and sighed. "They'll be back soon."

"A-okay with me," Jazz said, plucking a can and placed it on the metal table next to them. "That'll be his, then." He then took his own can, and started to drink from it.

Arcee held her can of oil between her servos, and stared at her reflection in its dark, murky substance. Ratchet looked at her, and then cleared his throat to get her attention, which did work.

"Um, Arcee, can I, uh, talk to your for a moment?" he asked, pointing his thumb digit over his shoulder and to the window.

She blinked her optics, and then nodded her helm. "Sure," Arcee said slowly, and she followed the medic to the window.

Optimus cast his stare to the duo, but decided to leave them alone so they could talk. Once Ratchet pulled Arcee aside, everything that he had planned himself to say slipped away from his processor. He had everything prepared, and now he had forgotten. He looked away from her, then to his oil, and at her awaiting face.

"Uh, Arcee . . ."

"Yes?"

"Well, I—uh."

"Ratchet."

"Yes?"

"This is about me being in stasis, isn't it?"

He blinked his optics, and then he nodded his helm. "Yes, yes it is," he answered, looking away from her, and he took a drink of his oil.

She nodded her helm, noticing how the atmosphere around them became increasingly awkward. "Look, Ratchet, thank you for never giving up on me, or forgetting me," she whispered.

"How could anybot forget you?"

She stared at him with a momentary surprise, but that was soon washed away with a more serious emotion. "But thank you," she said.

They grew silent for a moment; both drank their oil. Ratchet broke the ice:

"I finally brought you home, Arcee," he whispered. "You can read up about what happened in the stellar-cycles you were in stasis."

"I know, but I want to go back to Earth."

He looked at her in surprise. "Earth?" he echoed. "Why do you want to go back to Earth?"

"I like it there," she answered, her optics staring out to Cybertron. "It was nothing like I had never seen before. I like that planet, and I would like to stay there."

"B-but, don't you want to stay here? Your home?"

"Well, this is my home planet, but my home is probably gone."

She was right. When the war totaled cities into metal rubble, homes were destroyed. Family units torn apart—bondmates separated. It was horrible. War _is_ horrible. Ratchet thumbed his can of oil, and frowned sternly.

"I like that planet," Arcee stated. "It's so bright and colourful. I'd like to learn more about it."

Ratchet stared at the femme for a moment, and then bobbed his helm. "Okay, if that's what you wish," he said softly.

"Yes, that's what I would like," she answered, looking up at him and smiled.

He nodded his helm again, and took a sip of his oil.

* * *

><p>Sentinel felt all optics upon him as he finished his story. Alpha Trion's metallic digits twitched, and the tips grazed against his metal table top. Cliffjumper blinked his optics, and shook his helm. "What? Wait a klik," he stated. "So, you're saying that the Allspark was shattered and pieces of it are scattered in that organic city?"<p>

"Yes," he muttered. "Or elsewhere. I'm not sure."

"And why didn't you tell us this, Sentinel," Alpha Trion growled.

"Ultra Magnus said that it would cause panic," Sentinel quickly answered. "And he thought it would be best not to tell."

Alpha Trion frowned as he arched his digits below his jaw. "This is cumbersome," he whispered, his optics distant.

"Now it seems that we must search for the remaining Allspark fragments on this planet Earth," Perceptor stated curtly. "We must find as many as we can. It seems that Optimus Prime and his crew found the ones that are hanging around your neck, so I presume they can find the rest."

Sentinel eyed the scientist for a moment, and growled. "Yeah, I suppose they can," he muttered roughly.

"Then after we give a ceremony to the fallen, they will be arranged to go back to Earth and search for the Allspark shards," Alpha Trion stated. "And Preceptor?"

"Yes?"

"Arrange Ion and her group to go to Earth."

"Sir, what would the reason be?"

"These organics—Earthlings—became entangled in a civil war that they had no part of," he began. "Not only must we thank them, but we must learn more about them. Perhaps they can become our intergalactic partners."

Sentinel could not believe what he was hearing. Become partners with these slagging organics? Was he crazy? Stupid? Or both?

"Is there something wrong with your CPU or something, old mech?" Sentinel demanded, tapping at his own helm to further his point. "You want to become intergalactic partners with a bunch of slagging organics?"

"Whatever racist feelings you hold against this race is none of my concern," Alpha Trion stated firmly. "And I would like it if you did not propose those feelings upon the public like you have been doing ever since you became Magnus. I feel that we should learn more about these organics. After all, you said it yourself that there were organics that helped fight against the Decepticons."

Sentinel was beginning to regret that he had ever mentioned that.

"So, Perceptor, please—when Ion and Atomspark return—inform them upon their upcoming quest. I believe it has been a few hundred stellar-cycles since they had a real quest."

"Yes, sir," Perceptor stated.

"Thank you."

How dare that slagging old mech make decisions as if _he_ were Magnus! Sentinel growled, glaring hard at Alpha Trion as his dentals ground together. The older mech turned to stare at the annoying Magnus, and said:

"Give us the Allspark Matrix."

"Why?" Sentinel snapped.

"So we can keep it safe," Alpha Trion stated firmly. "Now, give it to us."

Sentinel glared at the mech before him. A scowl etched its way across his faceplates as he removed the heavy object around his neck and placed it upon the table near Alpha Trion. He backed away, still gripping the Magnus Hammer.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," sneered the Magnus.

"I believe this session has come to its end," Alpha Trion stated. "Is there anything else we need to discuss?"

"No," the Magnus said.

"Alright. Session is dismissed."

* * *

><p><strong>Alpha Trion can not give a single shit about Sentinel (and neither does Atomspark and Ion). xD Old mech be a troll.<strong>


	3. Blurr Cubed

**BLURR, BITCHES.**

**BLURR.**

**As a cube, _yeah_, but still . . .**

**BLURR.**

**Horrible title is horrible.**

* * *

><p>Blurr Cubed<p>

III

A slender femme stood in her place, reading from her data-pad. Her digit scrolled the data page on the screen, and read the text on it. She was highly engrossed in the text, but not so much that she could not ignore the sounds that were coming from her right. She turned her helm up, and noticed a red, purple, and grey mech with his arms crossed over his chest-plates. He was leaning against a metal wall, and there was a smirk upon his metallic lips. He made a kissing motion at her, and grinned winningly.

"Hey, sweetspark," he crooned sweetly.

She scoffed at him, and moved away. The mech's smile fell from his face, and he frowned. "Well, ex_cuuuse_ me, sweetspark," he mocked, shaking his helm.

Ion turned to stare at her partner, and arched an optic ridge to him. "Atomspark," the teal and white femme next to him scolded, "knock it off." She looked at the device in her servos. "We're supposed to be searching for Agent Blurr."

"We _are_," Atomspark responded with a shrug of the shoulders.

"No, _I_ am, _you're_ not," Ion hissed, tapping at the screen. "You're optics are always searching for your next toy to play with."

"What? I can't do both?" the mech said with a grin.

Ion's servo came up to slap Atomspark's helm, and he yelped. "What the slag was that for?" he grumbled, glaring down at her, servos craddling his helm, which was not even hurting in the very least.

"For being you," Ion responded dryly. "C'mon, let's move. He's bound to be here." She walked along, and he followed after her.

"None of us have ever seen Blurr in this building in solar-cycles," Atomspark called, following the femme's quick movements.

"He moves like, well, a blur," she said, never once looking up from her data-pad. "Just because we don't always see him doesn't mean that he's not here."

"But, he may not be here at all and the stupid thing's glitching," Atomspark stated, tapping at the side of the data-pad in Ion's servos.

"Even if it is, we have to check," she said curtly, lifting her helm up in pride. "Always be a hundred percent on everything, even if it is right or incorrect."

"If it's wrong, then why be a hundred percent on it?" he asked, shrugging his shoulder plates.

"So you can say I tried," she answered, still walking and staring at the data-pad in her servos. "You should try it sometime."

"Hey, hey, hey, I give a hundred percent," Atomspark declared, lifting up his right servo in the air.

"Yeah, when it comes to seducing pretty mechs or femmes, I've never seen anybot work as hard as you to have a one-night stand with a stranger."

"You're slaggin' right I work hard on that!" Atomspark said with a sense of pride and a large smirk. "And what about my work? Don't I work hard on that?"

"Eh, I'll give you that."

Ion walked down the hall, Atomspark hot on her high-heel pedes, and she made a sharp turn at a corridor, and smashed into a body that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Both yelped as Ion stumbled back and dropped her data-pad (Atomspark catching her with quick reactions), and the other mech balanced himself perfectly still so he would not fall.

"I'm sorry! I'm s-so sorry!"

"Hey, watch it," Ion muttered, and then she snapped up her helm. "Oh, Peacemaker. Hey."

"Miss Ion?" the green-optic mech stated, lifting his rounded helm with the V-like part between his optics. "I'm so sorry." He crouched down, and scooped up her cracked data-pad. "Oh, Miss Ion, um—I'm so sorry."

Atomspark slid up next to the both of them, and stared at the data-pad. "Slag, nice job, Peace," he said, clapping his hand on the mech's shoulder-plating. "You broke it."

Peacemaker cringed as his digits locked together. "I'm s-sorry, Miss Ion," he muttered, hanging his helm.

"Atomspark, stop it," Ion muttered, staring at her partner. "And Peacemaker, you have nothing to feel sorry about." She stared at the black-screened cracked data-pad, and sighed. "I should have been watching what I was doing."

"What were you doing, a-anyways?" Peacemaker asked, his servos dropping to stomach-level.

"The Perceptor sent us to find Agent Blurr," Atomspark answered. "Say, have you seen him?"

"Blurr? Is he the f-fast-talking 'bot?"

"Yep, that's him alright," Ion said, still holding her data-pad, but it dropped to her side. "Talks a mile a kilk and nobot understand what he says."

Atomspark chuckled, his fingers rubbing at his chin. "Fun 'bot, though," he remarked. "Got to meet him once. Nice 'bot. Pity I have no idea what the slag he says. He just goes on and on and _on_."

The other mech blinked owlishly, as if he was trying to recall a time that he had seen the speedster. He shook his helm sadly. "T-to answer your question: no, I h-haven't seen him," Peacemaker stated. "In fact, I don't think anybot have seen him. O-or heard from him."

Ion frowned, her slender digit tapping at her lower dental. "Well, let's go ask Cliffjumper," she said, shifting her weight to her other lower leg. "He's good friends with Blurr, right?"

"I think s-so," Peacemaker responded. "I believe the talk session h-he attended has ended . . ."

"Well, let's go ask him as search for Blurr's energy signature using his computer. He should be back at work, right? You said the session has ended and we've been looking for a mega-cycle for Agent Blurr. Wanna come, Peacemaker?"

Digits tapped against each other, and Peacemaker shly smiled and nodded. "S-sure, I have nothing else to do," he said, playing with his digits as he shuffled his pedes.

Atomspark wrapped his arm around the smaller mech's shoulders, and grinned. "Good, we've got another pair of optics to help us," he said. "Now, onward!"

* * *

><p>Bumblebee walked along, Sari still perched on his shoulder, and both had barely talked in a mega-cycle (roughly and hour and a half for humans). She was silent as her hands were perched on her lap, and she looked as if she were in a daze of some sorts. He looked at her, frowning. He knew that she was still bummed about the fact that her friend had died. He was too, of course, but he tried to keep up-beat and pose a brave front; he hoped that it would cheer her up to see him happy. His digit gently prodded at her side, and she turned up to stare at him. He smiled softly at her.<p>

"Hey, you okay, right?" he asked softly.

"Um, yeah," she said, looking away from him; rubbing the back of her head. "Just—yeah."

He frowned, and his servo dropped to his side. They went along, both silent. Just then an idea popped into Bumblebee's processor, and he turned to her, beaming. "Hey, I've got an idea," he began, hoping that she would look up at him, which she did. "When we get home, we'll play endless video games, huh?"

She smiled up at him. "Sounds fun, Bee," Sari said, patting his shoulder-plating.

"I thought you would like that!" he exclaimed, a toothy grin appearing on his face.

They rounded a corner when they stopped. Before them, about twenty or so feet, were four Autobots. Three mechs and one femme. The teal and white femme was talking to a red mech, who had a similar model to Bumblebee. The yellow mech recognized him as Cliffjumper. The other three . . . he had never seen them before. One of the smaller mechs glanced up, noticing Bumblebee and Sari, and he smiled sheepishly.

"Hey, it's that 'bot w-with the organic," the green-optic mech said as he leaned in towards his friends.

The other Autobots glanced up, taking note of the yellow mech and the organic's presence. The femme stood tall over the red mech, who ceased typing at his computer to join in on the staring. Cliffjumper narrowed his optics, focusing on the organic with an unsure expression. The tallest mech arched an optic ridge, and crossed his arms across his chest-plate. Bumblebee smiled, and waved at them.

"Hey, how's it going?" he greeted, his smile faltering slightly into an awkward one.

The femme shared a look with the small pale orange and tan mech with the green optics, and she smiled, motioning with her left servo. "Hey, come over," she called gently.

Bumblebee and Sari shared a look, but did what the femme wanted. Cliffjumper, however, tensed in his chair, and leaned into Ion.

"Ion, don't make that organic come over here," he whispered hoarsely. "They're toxic."

"Cliffjumper, if they're so toxic, why isn't the organic harming him?" she asked, her face flushed with ennui. "I highly doubt they're as toxic as everybot says they are. Has one hurt you?"

"Um, no . . ."

"Well, don't judge a model by what they look like."

Cliffjumper bit the tip of his glossa, and watched as the mech with the organic approached the counter. Sari shifted from her place on Bumblebee's shoulder-plate, and looked at the pairs of optics staring her down.

"Um, hi," she said, waving her hand awkwardly.

"You are a human, right?" the femme asked, a smile upon her lips. "I don't understand why everybot is saying that you organics are dangerous or toxic. I don't see how."

Sari let out an exasperated sigh, and nodded her head vigorously. "Thank you!" she said, thrusting out her hand in the air. "Finally someone that won't freak out before they know anything about us. If anything, organics are more toxic to each other than you! In fact, I don't think we can't do anything to you at all."

The femme laughed, placing a servo to her hip. "I knew it, I knew it all along. That crazy Sentinel's got a few circuits loose in his processor," she said, tapping at her own helm. She turned to her mech friend, and slapped him playfully on the chest with the back of her palm. "You owe me ten credits."

"Fine," her friend grumbled, his faceplate curling into a growl. "I'll pay you when we get back to the lab, okay?"

"Better," she said. The femme turned back to the yellow 'bot and the organic. "I'm Ion, this is Atomspark—" She pointed to the red, purple, and grey Autobot at her side, who gave a wink to Sari and Bumblebee. "—this is Cliffjumper—" She pointed to the red Autobot typing away at his keyboard vigorously. "—and this awkward little thing is Peacemaker. Say 'hi,' awkward little thing." She comfortingly patted the Autobot, and smiled at him encouragingly.

The Autobot named Peacemaker smiled shyly, and waved his servo at the group. "Hi, I'm Peacemaker," he said softly. "N-nice to meet you two." He then looked away, his hands crossing behind his back, and a single pede circled on the hard, reflecting surface of the floor.

Bumblebee and Sari exchanged a fleeting stare, and then the yellow Autobot grinned widely and jabbed a thumb towards his chest. "I'm Bumblebee, and this is my friend Sari Sumdac," he said, and then motioned to the organic on his shoulder.

Cliffjumper glanced occasionally up from his monitor, to the group before him, and then back to the monitor. "Um, hey, Cybertron to Autobots and tiny organic," he called. "Exchange pleasantries later—we've got Agent Blurr to search for."

Sari and Bumblebee looked at Cliffjumper with surprise.

"Wait, Blurr hasn't returned?" Bumblebee asked, cocking his helm to the right.

"Well, he was sucked into that space portal-thing with those Starscream clones," Sari said. "He was bound with that sticky-stuff. What if he's still out there?" She paused for a moment, and her hand hovered over her mouth. "Oh, God. Poor Blurr."

The other four Autobots blinked in unison, and they all shared glances.

"Starscream had _clones_?" Atomspark stated, his upper lip ridge curling into a scowl. "That slagger was already annoying as a single Decepticon, but he had _clones_? _Ugh_. That's a horrifying thought that will give me nightmares for some solar-cycles."

"It was bad," Bumblebee chuckled. "Take my word for it."

"So, anyways, back to Blurr," Sari said with a strict tone, "we haven't seen him since then."

Cliffjumper tapped his digits across the keyboard, and then hit a key. He wanted for a moment, and then stared at the screen in mild surprise. "Well, according to this," he said, tapping the monitor, "Blurr's very close. Thing's malfunctioning, I swear."

"Close?" Peacemaker asked, arching an optic ridge. "How close?"

Cliffjumper blinked his optics, and then stared at the screen. "A few feet away," he said, a lip curling up in confusion.

They glanced between each other, and then scoped around the room.

"Well, he's not in the hallway we came from," Bumblebee said, thumbing over his shoulder.

"He isn't outside," Ion said, hip jutting to the right. "And I highly doubt that he's in traitor Longarm Prime—or should I say _Shockwave's_—old office." She pointed forward to the tightly-closed metal doors.

Bumblebee and Sari turned to where Ion was pointing, and noticed the office's closed door. There was a name plate above a touch-pad, which allowed access to the office. It appeared to be disconnected. The name plate was made of a silvery metal, and it had something written on it. Possibly Longarm Prime's name in Cybertronian—it was scribbled out with numerous lines and scratches. Peacemaker tapped his dentals with a digit, and then he snapped his digits.

"Light bulb," he simply said.

The smaller mech approached Cliffjumpe, and gently pushed him aside. He tapped at the computer's keyboard, and then clicked on something. He then opened his palm skyward, and a digit pressed to the interior of his wrist. A port opened at the tip of his main digit, and a slender cord came from it. Placing the cord into the computer's ports, he patiently waited for the information to download. After a moment or so, he released his hold on the computer, and the cord snapped back into his digit. Peacemaker then erected himself to full height, and opened his palm again. As he did that, a hologram showing a map was projected from his digits. In the centre of that said projection was a medium-sized red dot that flickered.

"T-this will show us how close we are to A-Agent Blurr," he said with a soft smile. "The red d-dot in the centre will grow brighter the closer we are to him."

"Good thinking, Peacemaker," Ion said with an impressed face.

"Score, Peace-buddy!" Atomspark stated, clapping his hand roughly on Peacemaker's shoulder, causing the small mech to cringe. "That's the way you use that processor of yours!"

"T-thanks," Peacemaker said bashfully.

"That's pretty nifty, Peacemaker," Sari remarked. "Go on, how close are we to him?"

"I—it says that we're close, but n-not really close," Peacemaker stated. He walked in the direction of where Sari and Bumblebee came from, and the dot on the screen dramatically shifted in shape from medium to small.

"Nope, try the other way," Bumblebee said, pointing to his right, where the opening of the building was.

Peacemaker moved in the direction, and watched as the dot on the hologram banished into a pin-point. He froze, staring at the almost vanished dot. "No," he breathed. He moved back over to where they were, and the dot resumed its medium-sized stated.

It was strange and downright confusing. According to the hologram, Blurr was close to them, but he was not even in the same room. Cliffjumper scratched his chin, and he stared hard at the dot.

"Something's not right," he muttered. "Are you sure that's correct, mech?"

"I—I'm _sure_ of it," Peacemaker proclaimed ardently. "I just b-bought this mod not too long ago. This is b-brand new." He lifted his servo in the air, and moved it in all sorts of directions. The dot grew in size, and Peacemaker froze. His servo was before the incinerator.

The group was silent as they took in the information they were shown.

"Where does that go?" Sari asked, breaking the deafening silence.

"The incinerator," Cliffjumper responded. "That's strange—I wonder why it would do that?"

"Only one way to find out," Atomspark stated. He reached across, and opened the door to the incinerator. The insides of the cold metal material were threatening, and the further it went, the darker it became. "Okay, who's small enough to go down?"

All turned to Sari. The little techno-organic bit her lip, and froze. "Me?" she asked, pointing a finger to her face.

"M-Miss Sari Sumdac, please?" Peacemaker said softly. "If Blurr is down there, y-you can tell us."

"But why would Blurr be down there?" Sari demanded.

"Yeah, that makes no sense," Bumblebee huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't think he can even fit through that hole."

"But we have to check, just to make sure, even if Peacemaker's program is glitching," the Autobot femme said.

Peacemaker looked at the projection in his palm, and sighed deeply. "I just bought this," he muttered sadly.

Cliffjumper pressed a switch on his desk, which deactivated the incinerator instantly.

Sari pursed her lips, and then let out a grunt. "Fine, I'll go," she said, throwing her hands into the air. "But I'm doing this for Blurr!"

Bumblebee hummed worriedly in his throat, but scooped up the little human anyways, and placed her at the opening. She peered down, noticing how dark it was, and shuttered.

"It's, um, dark in there," she said, her brows knitting.

"Don't worry! Cliffjumper to the rescue!" the red Autobot proclaimed. He opened a drawer in his desk, frowned, closed it, and then opened another one. After a while of rummaging through his desk, he found a flashlight, and flipped it on. "Here we go." He turned it down the tunnel, illuminating the way. "Okay, on you go, organic."

"The name is _Sari_," she muttered as she slowly descended into the tunnel. She continued to move down, until she lost her footing and slide down, screaming all the way. Sari dropped down, landing in unburned trash with a hard thump. She groaned as the light outlined her frame and the garbage around her. "Ow . . ."

"Sari, you okay?" Bumblebee called.

"Miss S-Sari Sumdac!" Peacemaker yelled. "Are y-you damaged in any way?"

Sari groaned, and slowly sat up. "No," she muttered, rubbing at the back of her head. "Bumblebee and the rest of you owe me big time for this!"

"Remember the video games, Sari! Video games!" Bumblebee's voice echoed.

She grumbled even more, and kicked away something sharp. She could have sworn that she had heard Peacemaker ask: "What are video games?" Nonetheless, she climbed up a mound of trash, and balanced on it to look outward.

"Hey, Blurr?" she called, hands cupped around her mouth. "Blurr, you in here?"

Her voice echoed within the large room. The ceiling was high, and the walls were wide. The little light provided by the flashlight that Cliffjumper gripped in his servo. She glanced around, and called again:

"Blurr! Blurr!"

Nothing. Sari glanced around, searching for the tall, speed-talker Autobot that she had met once before. She moved along, searching. Her neck craned upward—full and erect, and she scoped out her area.

"Hey there, pretty femme, see anything yet?" Atomspark asked.

"No, I don't see anything, and the light is weak," Sari yelled. "Do you have anything stronger than a flashlight's light?"

There was a pause. "Um, let me see . . ." Cliffjumper muttered. There was a moment of silence, and there was another light, which was a tad stronger. "Any better?"

"A little," Sari answered back.

"What?"

"I said 'a little'!" she screamed.

"Got it!"

Sari shook her head, and continued to search. Once in a while, she would call out Blurr's name, and glance around. Worry flushed over her body, along with confusion and doubt. She climbed over some trash, and then something caught her eye. Something was wedged in a protruding crack of a wall. It stood five queen-size mattresses tall, and it looked horribly mangled. Sari looked over the block of trash, thinking it was nothing, and started to move away from it.

_Sari . . ._

The girl paused, hearing a voice pop into her head. Blinking, she shifted her eyes from side to side, shrugged, and then moved along.

_Sari, wait . . ._

Sari paused again, and stood up straight. This voice . . . it was her imagination, right? It did not sound like her voice, though. It sounded like a cultured male voice. Realization struck, and she shivered.

"_Prowl_?"

_Go back to that cube._

"W-what?"

_Just do it._

Sari turned on her heel, and approached the cube again. The metal was cold—like a dead body—but it was fleetingly warm. She peered at the twisted, damaged metal and noticed something glowing within that trashed scrap of metal. It was rounded, sizzling, life-filled, and it looked very much like a . . .

Sari's eyes widened, and she backed away slightly. She found her body trembling like a wet hairless dog in the middle of winter. Hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and a cold shiver rushed across her body and through her veins.

"_Blurr_," she breathed.

The spark inside the hunk of metal gave a flicker of remembrance—as if it knew the name she uttered. The little techno-organic's eyes widened in horror, her jaw becoming slack, and her skin blistered.

She could only scream.


	4. Scrap Metal

**And, again, BLURR.**

**HE SHALL RETURN AND KICK DECEPTICON SKIDPLATE.**

**Anyways, I drew all my Autobot FCs, but not in their Cybertronian modes; just Earth modes. Anyways, I drew Atomspark's bust. Here's where you can see him: http : / / artistdragon . deviantart . com / art / SOTE - Mr - Soul - Patch - 280585423**

**I'll draw the others soon enough.**

* * *

><p>Scrap Metal<p>

IV

Bumblebee pounded his fists into the wall, and looked down the garbage chute in horror. Sari had screamed; it was one of those screamed he had heard in horror movies when the girl got attacked by some revolting monster or the murderous killer found her in a hiding spot, and it would be the last thing she uttered before she had death greet her. Was she okay? Thoughts of all the bad things that could happen to her played in his processor like a broken record. "Sari! Sari, are you okay?" he called in his frantic state. "Hey! Sari!"

Ion moved closer, peering down the opening. "Are you okay?" she shouted, leaning in towards the hole in the wall. "Primus, answer us!"

Peacemaker shuttered. That scream made his hard drive grow cold. He had never, ever heard anybot scream like that before, and it ran chills to his very core. His digits gripped the corners of the square opening, and his mouth creased in a flat line as optics widened. He peered into the darkness, hoping to see her or perhaps the faint outline of her body the light would cause.

"Oh my God," Sari's voice screamed. "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! _Oh my God_!"

"What? What is it?" Cliffjumper shouted, shoving through the huddled crowd to lean in towards the opening. "Do you see something?"

Inside of the incinerator, Sari tried to level her panicked breathing, and her heart pounded as if she had ran ten miles without a single break to regain energy. She clutched her chest tightly, and her legs felt like jelly supported by two fragile sticks for bone. She stumbled forward, her body falling against the cube, and then she panicked, pulling herself away from the mangled blue metal as if it were a dead body. Sari swallowed thickly, and rested her hand on the metal.

"B-Blurr, Blurr, it's okay. I'm sorry I screamed . . . It's just that—I'm sorry," she crooned, hoping that she would calm down and that he could hear her voice. "I'm S-Sari, the girl from Earth—friends with the Autobots."

The spark flickered as if in reply. Sari gagged on her own saliva, hugging the metal as best as she could as a form of comfort. "Hang on, Blurr, we're going to get you out of here," she said. "Don't worry." She gingerly pulled herself from the metal, and watched the spark beat in return, like he was begging for her help. Sari ran to the opening, and peered at the minimal amount of light she saw.

"Sari? Sari? Are you okay?" Bumblebee's voice called, laced thick with worry.

"Bumblebee! Everyone!" she called, cupping her hands over her mouth.

"Miss Sari S-Sumdac!" Peacemaker called. "Are you okay? T-that scream was horrifying."

"I found Blurr!"

"W—you what?" Cliffjumper exclaimed, confusion creased his faceplate.

The flashlight he held, which produced a cylinder of light, jumped as he spoke.

"Is he okay, little lady?" Atomspark called.

"No, no he's not!" Sari yelled, her body trembling. "Somebody send me a cable. I will bring him up."

But, a regular sized Autobot could not have fit through this small opening. He must have been chopped into pieces if he could have been thrown into there, and could be able to bring him up. Atomspark gagged at the thought, but did what Sari wanted.

"R-right," Atomspark said, leveling his voice. "Coming right up."

Sari waited for a moment, and then came a slender, long cable that thrust outward came from the opening, and the little grapple at the end clanked at it landed on the metal floor below her. After climbing over the trash, she grabbed the cable between both hands, and rushed over to the cube. She froze, wondering how she was going to do this without hurting Blurr. He was so intensively damaged; could he feel any more pain at all? Sari inhaled sale air, and hugged the cube again.

"Hang on," she whispered, pulling the cable more and started to wrap the cable around the cube as securely as she could. "We're going to get you out of here. We're going to fix you up, okay? Just hang on."

Sari tugged at the cable, and placed the grapple against the cable securely. She gripped the cable, and tugged at it. "Okay, pull us up!" she shouted.

Outside, Atomspark braced his pedes on the floor, and his arm modification grapple-cord started to pull upward, reeling in the cable. Peacemaker bit the tip of his glossa, optic ridges furrowed, and a frown creased his faceplates. Everybot waited anxiously until Sari and a metal cube plopped onto Cliffjumper's desk. The techno-organic panted heavily as she hunched over; head nearly touching the top of the desk. The red secretary blinked, staring at the cube with a frown.

"What is this? This isn't Blurr," he said, jabbing a digit at the metal. "I threw this into the incinerator when traitor Longarm Prime gave . . ." Cliffjumper paused, his sentence dropping off into a dead stop.

Sari circled around, and then glared up at Cliffjumper as she pointed inside of the metal—pointing at Blurr's still-beating spark. The secretary just stood there, his face unreadable for a moment, and then it slowly turned into one of disgust and utter horror. It slowly sunk in; the horror of the situation had his spark in a vice grip. The other Autobots followed suit, staring at the meshed metal. Peacemaker trembled, servos gripping each other tightly as his engine perked in heightened fear—he held onto Ion for support. Atomspark's face was one of complete confusion mixed in with outrage. Bumblebee was appalled, and Ion had a hand clamped over her mouth as she violently trembled. Sari looked up to Ion, a pleading look on her face.

"C-can we help him?" she asked.

Ion couldn't speak. She had lost her voice. Atomspark noticed her frightened self, and he reached over to grip her shoulders soothingly. "He's still online," he answered for his partner. "That means he still has a chance."

Cliffjumper dropped to his knees, staring at the cube as his servos gripped the corners of his desk. His optics were pained, and he gritted his dentals down. "Blurr? Oh, Primus, what have I done?" he whimpered, smashing his helm into the desk and quivering.

Bumblebee's engine grunted and he pushed by the others to gingerly take the cube that was Blurr into his hands. "Well, standing around won't do slag," he snapped, holding the metal close to his chest. "Let's get to emergency, and get some medicbots to help him."

Ion snapped out of her sickened daze, and glanced to the Autobot before her. "Y-you're right," she said, trying to level her voice. "C'mon, let's hurry." She pulled away from Atomspark's grip, grabbed Bumblebee by the arm, and led the mech away. Atomspark was soon to follow.

Cliffjumper stood up on wobbly legs, his engine racing as did his processor, and he cast a pity-filled stare to Cliffjumper; not speaking as he stared. Sari inched closer to the mech secretary, and glanced up at him. "Are you okay?" she asked soothingly.

"N—no, no I'm not," Cliffjumper grunted out. He turned to stare at her with wide optics. "I did—did t-that to Bl—Blurr. I nearly kill—" He put his hands over his face.

"Cliffjumper, snap out of it," Sari said firmly. "Blurr is still online, and he still has a chance. C'mon, let's go."

The red mech stared at the slender organic on his desk, and he calmed his body. Sari looked up at him, a firm look upon her face and her stance stiff. Cliffjumper's engine let out a sigh, and he offered his servo to her, which she readily climbed onto. The red Autobot waited for her to get steady in his palm before he started to move. Peacemaker shifted, and darted off, only to pause a few feet away, waiting for Cliffjumper to follow. He then followed after the other Autobots.

* * *

><p>"So, are ya'll stayin' here on Cybertron or movin' back t' Earth?"<p>

Optimus held a cube of liquid Energon, and arched an optic ridge to Jazz, who was munching on small pink florescent Energon cubes and stared at the blue and red Autobot. The Prime shrugged his broad shoulders.

"I would like to, but I'm not sure," Optimus said. "I have to see what's going to happen."

"Yah might have t' make a speech," Jazz said, offering some of the Energon cube snacks to the Autobot in front of him.

Optimus shook his helm, declining the offer of the snack. Jazz shrugged his shoulders, and munched on another single cube. "You're probably right, Jazz," Optimus stated. "I might have to make a speech. Even though we got some dangerous Decepticons in custody, there are others still out there. We have to make sure we get them all."

"Yah, who knows what'll happen if we don't," Jazz stated. "There's a lot out there."

Optimus blinked his optics, nodded again, and took a sip of his liquid Energon. He looked over to his left to see Ratchet still speaking with Arcee. It looked like a serious conversation. Of course it would be a serious conversation. The Prime took another drink of his beverage. The front doors of the room opened up, and a pair of very familiar twins burst into the room, filling the room with a ray of sunlight almost.

"Jetfire, there being heroes of Cybertron!" Jetstorm stated enthusiastically.

Jetfire leaned against Jetstorm, and grinned cheekily. "Oh, yes, they are being heroes!" he said, grinning widely. "Very big heroes!"

"Oh, yes."

Jazz grinned as the Jet Twins approached. "Hey, buddies!" he said, wrapping his large arm playfully around the both of them as best as he could. "How's it goin'?"

"It going well," Jetstorm answered.

"Oh, yes, it be going very well, Mr. Jazz Sir," Jetfire stated, nodding his helm vigorously.

Ratchet turned up from Arcee, stared at the playful Elite Guard Autobots, and his engine let out a sigh. The pink femme Autobot blinked her optics, staring at the duo she had never seen before.

"Ratchet, who are they?" she asked, motioning her helm towards the two siblings.

"Twins Jetstorm and Jetfire," he answered. "They're with the Elite Guard." He turned out to look at the skyline of Cybertron. "They're also the first Autobots that can fly."

Arcee snapped up her helm, her face covered in complete surprise. "But, Autobots can't fly," she said, abashed.

Ratchet nonchalantly shrugged his broad shoulders. "Times are changin'," he muttered.

Arcee blinked, her helm turning downward to stare at her drink, frowning. So much has changed. Bulkhead shifted, finishing his oil, and waved his large three-digit claw-like appendage at the twins, who waved back. Both of the Jet Twins' faces became serious, and they pressed their servos together.

"We being sorry for you loosing Mr. Prowl," Jetfire said sadly.

"Yes, very sorry," Jetstorm added.

The room grew silent, as if they were honoring the past existence of Prowl. Optimus gripped his cube of Energon, bobbing his helm. "Yes, well, thank you," he said softly.

Ratchet frowned sternly, and then he cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, I don't think Prowl would want us glooming over him," he muttered. "But thanks for your concern, kids."

Jetfire and Jetstorm exchanged unsure glances. Jazz sent them a comforting smile, and gave them a firm pat on their shoulders. The twins looked at each other again, and they seemed to perk into their normal, playful and naïve personalities. Both twins turned to Optimus, pulled themselves gently from Jazz's grip, and approached Optimus Prime.

"Mr. Optimus Prime Sir, tell us how you be beating Megatron," Jetstorm said, his hands laced together tightly.

"Yes, how did you be beating that badness 'bot?" Jetfire asked.

Optimus blinked, and then chuckled bashfully. "You want to hear the story?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," Jetfire and Jetstorm said in perfect unison.

"Okay," Optimus said with a grin. "Well—"

The doors opened, and Sentinel came into view. He had a large scowl on his stern face, and his hand gripped the Magnus Hammer. There was a tense moment of silence, and then the current Magnus spoke:

"I told the High Council everything."

Optimus blinked his optics, staring at the Magnus. "You mean . . .?"

"I told them about the Allspark being destroyed and all," Sentinel muttered, waving a servo in the air. "And the High Council is . . . talking about becoming intergalactic partners with Earth . . . and they want to learn more about them . . ."

The group looked surprised. Bulkhead beamed as best as he could with his oddly-shaped jaw. "Alright," he said. "But I wonder how Earth will feel?"

"Who knows," Ratchet said, shrugging his shoulders. "What we know about Earth is minimal anyways. I'm not sure if the rest of the planet will take that well."

Sentinel smirked at the idea of not having Earth as partners.

"Sounds pretty chill t' me," Jazz said, taking another piece of Energon cube and tossed it into his mouth. "I'd like t' go back t' Earth. The place's pretty rad and kickin'."

Optimus smiled at Jazz. The mech soaked up Earth slang like a sponge (whatever a "sponge" was—it was some Earth saying). Jetfire and Jetstorm glanced to each other, and then shrugged at each other. Jazz spoke strangely to them, but then again, they spoke just as strangely.

"Anything else?" Ratchet asked.

"Alpha Trion dismissed the session," Sentinel muttered. "He keeps acting like he's Magnus." He muttered something under his breath, and his thumb component rubbed at his strong jaw. "I suppose he might call you. I dunno. Knowing him . . ."

Optimus exchanged a look with Jazz, who shrugged his large shoulders. Sentinel shifted on his pedes, and looked to the Prime and his crew.

"Have any of you 'bots seen Agent Blurr?"

"Blurr?" Bulkhead said, scratching the top of his helm. "Not since he got sucked into the Space Bridge, no. Why?"

"According to the computers, his energy signature shows him in the Metroplex," he stated firmly.

"He made it back to Cybertron?" Ratchet asked, astonished. "Slag, that's one determined 'bot."

"Apparently," the Magnus answered. "And I was wondering if anyone of you saw him. The High Council is searching for him."

"Well, SM, we haven't seen Blurr," Jazz stated. "But if we do see 'im, we'll give yah a call."

"Good," Sentinel stated, bobbing his helm curtly. "We need to make sure that he's safe. I need to get those glitches off my back."

* * *

><p>The medical Autobots felt queasy inside as they stared at the tangled mess of blue metal before them. Red Alert, the only femme of the group, hand her servo clutching her lower jaw, and her digitss brushed over her mouth. It made the other Autobots physically ill with sickness and rage; Red Alert kept her cool as her processor was worked hard to figure out what she could do to help him without harming his spark. Sari stood in Cliffjumper's palm, who was still shaking from the experience. She looked at him and frowned as she felt his tremors jiggle her body.<p>

"Can we help him?" Bumblebee demanded.

"I'm thinking," Red Alert answered briskly. She stooped forward, taking in the gruesome scene before her. "I'm thinking . . ." She looked to the organic, and came to the conclusion that she was not toxic, because Cliffjumper was touching her and nothing was wrong with him (those allegations of organics being toxic was obviously incorrect). "What's your name?"

Sari blinked, staring up at the white and red Autobot femme before her. "I'm Sari," she answered.

Red Alert glanced her over, and gave a bob of her helm. "Okay," she breathed. She turned back to the cube, and then turned to the Autobots. "Obviously, he is in critical condition and in deep stasis," Red Alert stated matter-of-factly. "What we need to do, to protect his spark, is to remove it and place it into a protoform."

"Will h-he make it?" Peacemaker demanded, his hands gripping each other tightly. "H-he will be able to survive, r-right?"

Sari watched the orange and tan mech with a something she found to be very odd: he kept no optic-contact with the one whom he was speaking to. His optics would glance around the room and hardly looked at to the one speaking to him. It was strange. He also hunched his body over, making himself appear smaller as he fiddled with his servos and digits awkwardly. It was just plain old strange.

"It is uncertain," Red Alert stated. "But to give him a fighting chance, we have to try it." She turned to stare at the block of metal. "We need to cut away the metal to get to his spark and remove it." She moved her helm to stare at a fellow medic. "First Aid, go and retrieve a protoform."

"Yes, ma'am," the small, rounded Autobot stated, and he was off.

Cliffjumper twitched, staring at the scrap of metal with wide optics flushed in horror. Disgust, pure, unadulterated anger and fear rushed in his body like they were racers and he were the race track. His spark constricted, and his dentals gritted. "This is my fault," he muttered, hanging his helm. "This is all my fault."

Sari turned to stare at the red Autobot. "No, it's not your fault," she said. "Shockwave did that to him, not you."

"But I threw him into the incinerator," he rasped out, never lifting his helm up.

Sari furrowed her brows, and turned up to Atomspark, Bumblebee, Ion, and Peacemaker, making nonverbal pleas of help with her eyes. Ion cleared her throat, and reached over to put her servo on Cliffjumper's broad shoulders.

"You did not know it was Blurr," she crooned gently. Ion reached down, opening her palm for Sari to crawl into, which she did. Carefully, she moved her hand with the organic perched on it to Bumblebee, who took hold of Sari. "Cliffjumper, let's go outside and talk, okay?"

His sky blue optics were empty orbs, but he nodded his helm. Ion turned up to stare at the yellow Autobot and the techno-organic. "Sari, Bumblebee, could you inform Sentinel Magnus that we found Blurr," she asked calmly, taking control of the situation. "I'm pretty sure if you use the computers, you can find his energy signature and location."

"Sure," Bumblebee said. "N-no problem."

"Yeah, sure," Sari stated, bobbing her head.

The two friends left the small medical room, and Ion led the dishearten Cliffjumper from the room as well, silently talking to him as they went. Atomspark shifted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, and Peacemaker stared at the cube with wide optics.

"R-Red Alert, will cutting away the m-metal hurt him?" Peacemaker asked softly, pointing at the metal cube.

Red Alert's optic ridges furrowed. "He's in critical stasis," she answered. "If anything, he's probably in more pain now than if we cut away at the metal to get to his spark."

Peacemaker trembled, clenching his servos into trembling fists. Atomspark gripped Peacemaker's shoulder comfortingly as if to calm him. "Don't worry, Peace," he said. "We'll help him."

Peacemaker looked up at the taller mech, and his engine let out a fearful whimper.

* * *

><p>"Okay, computer, where's this slagger Sentinel?" Bumblebee growled out, his digits tapping on the keyboard.<p>

Sari looked at the large screen of the computer in front of her, watching as Cybertronian text flash across. Bumblebee's middle digit hit a key, and a red dot flashed on the screen.

"He's in our room," Bumblebee said, surprised. "Why would he be there?"

"To harass us," Sari muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. "What else?"

"True," Bumblebee said, clicking off the digital window, and turned on his heel. "C'mon, let's go and tell Sir Chin that we found Blurr."

* * *

><p>"What's taking Bumblebee and Sari so long?" Bulkhead asked, downing another can of oil before putting it aside. "They've been gone for a while."<p>

"I wouldn't be surprised if they got lost," Ratchet stated, an amused smirk spread on his lip components.

"Perhaps we should go look for them," Arcee suggested, rolling her can between her servos.

"Naw, they'll be fine," Ratchet said. "They can handle themselves."

And speaking of the devil, Bumblebee and Sari burst into the room. It looked as if Bumblebee had ran the whole way because his engine was roaring, groaning, and his chest-plating was heaving. Optimus arched an optic ridge.

"There you are, Bumblebee, Sari," Bulkhead said brightly. He moved over to the yellow 'bot, and wrapped an arm around him. "Man, it took you long enough."

"Blurr's been found!" Sari blurted, clinging to Bumblebee's shoulder.

Sentinel perked up, and pushed his way past Optimus Prime and Bulkhead. "Where?" he demanded roughly. "I want to know."

"In the medic ward," Sari answered as Bumblebee regained his posture. "C'mon, he's not well."

"What happened to him?" Optimus asked.

Bumblebee and Sari exchanged looks.

"You won't believe us if we told you . . ."

* * *

><p><strong>Blurr shall be rebuilt.<strong>

**People, we are moving closer and closer to orgasm.**


	5. Beating Spark

**Bay confirmed that TF 4 will be made.**

**More proof that God doesn't answer prayers. Sorry, but I hate Bay's films (the first one I liked enough to buy, but the others; NO). Just give me TFP, please. And Knockout. Lots and lots of Knockout.**

**Drew a drawing of Sari finding cube Blurr. La: http : / / artistdragon . deviantart . com / art / SOTE - Blurr - Cubed - 285336403**

* * *

><p>Beating Spark<p>

V

Optimus Prime was utterly speechless when he looked at the cube that was once Blurr sat in the middle of an operating table while medical Autobots scurried around him, deciding how to help him; they looked anxious and clueless as to how to perform the task without accidently killing him in the process. Sentinel Magnus pressed his face to the glass that separated them from cube-Blurr. He was blank-faced, like his processor was breaking down the information it was recieving and was trying to make it into logical sense. Jazz stood slack-jawed as he looked at the metal square that rested on the table.

"Man, that's some twisted, sick . . ." Jazz couldn't seem to finish his sentence.

"Slagging dirty Decepticons," Ratchet growled, placing his servo to the window, staring sadly at the cube.

Acree had her servoss over her mouth, and then she turned her helm from the spark-aching scene before her. "Oh, that poor Autobot," she gushed, leaning against the older 'bot for support, to which he wrapped his arm around her in a comforting manner.

Jetfire had his hands pressed against to the glass, and the helm rested against it as well. "Blurr," he breathed. "That cross-doubling dirty Decepticon Longarm Prime."

Jetstorm gripped his brother's shoulders comfortingly, and a frown crossed his lips. "Brother, they be helping him," he whispered to calm his brother. He gave a gentle squeeze to an arm, and Jetfire returned the touch with a servo placed on his brother's arm.

Bulkhead looked at the cube, and then hung his helm. "Primus," he murmured, claws tapping each other. "Poor Blurr. It's amazing how he could survive that."

The Magnus whipped around violently, and glared at the group of Autobots.

"What the slag happened to him?" he roared.

Bumblebee and Sari exchanged a glance. It was obvious that they could not sacrifice innocent Cliffjumper to the pure utter rage of Sentinel Magnus, so the techno-organic spoke up. She cocked a nervous smile, and held her hands up as if to create a guard to protect herself from Sentinel's onslaught of yelling. "Longarm Prime did this to him," she quickly said. "I suppose that Blurr went to Longarm, not knowing he was the spy, and told him what he knew. So . . . Longarm decided to get rid of him before he told anyone . . . any_bot_ else . . ."

Sentinel turned to stare hard at Sari. "Where was he found," he demanded, his dentals gritted, glaring hard at the little alien.

"In . . . the . . . incinerator," Bumblebee said slowly, cringing as he spoke.

All froze. A needle could have dropped a mile away, and the sound could have been heard.

"WHY WAS HE IN THE INCINERATOR?" Sentinel screamed loudly.

"I—I did it."

All turned to see a red Autobot, who was being comforted by a teal and white femme, and both stood up from their seats (they were roughly ten feet away). The red Autobot's face was contorted with anger that was being held back with all his might, and there were dustings of pain and sorrow in his optics. Her right arm was wrapped around his pointed shoulders, and her left servo was gripping his arm tenderly. Cliffjumper. His face hot and flushed with anger, not towards Sentinel or anyone else, but it was directed to Shockwave, who (sadly) was not there for Cliffjumper to violently attack. If only he could get his servos on that slagger's spark and rip it out of his chest. Sentinel stomped over to the mech secretary, surprising both the femme and the mech, and Ion quickly stood in front of the red Autobot; arms out, face determined.

"Move, Ion!" he shouted.

"Sentinel Magnus, sir, before you start," Ion said, her voice level and firm. "He didn't know that the cube was Blurr."

"It doesn't matter!"

"It _does_ matter, Sentinel _Magnus_," Ion snapped, stomping her heel into the floor. "Longarm—Shockwave used Cliffjumper. He had no idea. So don't start yelling at him. He's already in enough stress and torment since he found out, and you don't need to add to it, _sir_."

Ion and Sentinel glared down each other. The small sleek femme narrowed her visor at him, and a scowl formed on her lip components. He looked at Cliffjumper, who had a blank look on his face; the anger had vanished and his mind was breaking down information into smaller pieces, so it seemed. His helm was bent forward at an angle, which made it difficult to see his optics. He was neck-deep in depression. Jazz then slipped over, and stood between them.

"Hey, guys, let's all just chill an' take a breather, eh?" he said, a small grin stretched across his mouth. "Eh?"

Ion and Sentinel stared at each other before both stepped down and away from each other. Ion returned to Cliffjumper, and spoke to him in a low volume of voice, however, all knew it was something to comfort him. Sentinel glared at Cliffjumper, who glanced up at him. "I'll be talking to you later," the Magnus said firmly, pointing a digit at him.

Cliffjumper was holding back, as if he wanted to release his tiger-anger onto the Magnus, and it was taking all his will-power not to, which was an amazing feet when it came to Cliffjumper. Ion gripped Cliffjumper's servos comfortingly as her glare held firm. She turned to the mech secretary, and whispered. "Go sit down, okay?" she whispered.

He stared at her, and nodded his helm slowly. "Yeah," he breathed, dentals gritting. "Okay."

Ion released him, and the Autobot retreated back to their old seat. He slumped his shoulders, glaring hard at the floor as a fist pounded into an open servo as if it would calm his frayed self. Poor 'bot. He seemed so discouraged and—he probably felt like crap. The femme turned around, and looked at the other Autobots.

"Hello, I am Ion," she said. "I work for the Ministry of Science." Ion stepped forward, and glanced to Bumblebee and Sari, smiling. "Good job."

They smiled at her. Ion turned to stare at Optimus and his crew. "And I already know about you," she said.

"Hey, enough with the pleasantries," Ratchet snapped, a gripe on his face. "Is Blurr okay?"

"His condition is stable, yet incredibly critical," she answered quickly. "You're a medic, Ratchet. Do you still practice?"

"Yes," he answered in a grunt.

"Then why don't you join the other medics in the room," she said. "I presume that they will appreciate your help."

Ratchet looked to the cube, and then nodded his helm. He turned to Arcee, and gave her a gentle squeeze on the arm. "Right, okay, I'll do it," he grumbled, pushing by his friends, and walked to the door on the other side of the wall, and entered.

When he entered, Red Alert glanced up. She looked curious, but she soon remembered him and who he was. "Hello," she greeted.

"Ratchet," he said quickly. "War medic." The old mech approached the table. "He's in critical condition. I suppose he is in stasis."

"Yes," one medic answered for Red Alert.

"What's the plan?" Ratchet asked, rubbing his servos together.

"Extract his spark and place it into a fresh protofrom," she replied.

Ratchet arched an optic ridge to her. "Good plan," he said. "But that is risky, you know?"

"Well, it's the only thing I could think of," Red Alert responded.

Another medic scampered around, setting machines and retrieving materials for the pseudo-surgery that was going to perform. "And it is the most logical choice for something like this," he said, placing equipment onto a table. "And where is First Aid? He sure is taking his sweet time."

"He's retrieving a protoform," Red Alert said quickly. "He has to go across town to get one. It'll be a while."

Ratchet approached the table, resting a servo to the top of the cube. Below his pal he could feel the warmth and life that Blurr created. He leaned in, and saw the round spark flickering like an ember—it refused to die. _He_ refused to die.

"Hang on, kid," he grunted, patting the top of the cube carefully. "We're going to help you."

Outside, Sentinel was pacing. Ion shifted, a frown on her face-plating. He turned at the femme, a scowl on his face. "Where is Atomspark?" he demanded.

"Atomspark went with Peacemaker to tell the High Council what happened to Blurr," she said firmly, her expression matching Sentinel's. "I thought it would be necessary for them to know. Don't you agree, _sir_?"

"Yes, I agree, _ma'am_," Sentinel hissed back at her. "About time those two cogs do something." He scowled, tapping his pede on the floor, and turned his head to look at Blurr-cube. Ion shook her helm, and placed her hands to her hips. She stared at Optimus, a small smile on her teal lips.

"Pain, en't he?" she whispered, thumbing over her shoulder.

"'Pain' isn't the correct word to describe him," he responded.

She chuckled. "A nuisance?" she asked.

"Closer."

"A menace."

"Getting closer."

"A painfully menacing nuisance?"

"Perfect."

Ion chuckled. "I thought so too," she said, shifting. "Hey, I recon it's been a long solar-cycle for you, huh?"

Optimus chuckled dryly. "You better believe it," he said, rubbing his chin soothingly.

"Hey, why don't you and your crew get some sleep," she said. "I'll look over him, eh?"

"No, this is Blurr," the Prime said firmly, staring at her. "He's a good mech that needs those who care about him around him. We'll stay."

Ion looked at him, surprised. "Fascinating, you care about your crew," she said. "Unlike a certain you-know-who." The femme jutted her helm at Sentinel.

Optimus glanced over to stare at the miffed Magnus. "Yes, that is something he needs to learn," he said, crossing his servos over his chest. "I wish he will learn sometime soon."

Bumblebee looked to Blurr, and his pede tapped on the floor. "Why aren't they doing anything?" he asked gruffly.

"What is there to do?" Bulkhead asked. "How are they going to save him? I mean, he's not really salvable . . . looking . . ."

"Well, they're going to try to remove his spark, and put it into a protoform," Sari said, fingers lacing together, and her entire body faced the cube.

"Oh," Bulkhead said slowly. "Smart move. But, there's risk, right? I mean, they're removing his spark . . ."

Sari furrowed her brows, and hung her head. "Oh, God, I'm worried," she whispered, her hands gripping tightly. She bent her hands towards her lips, and the skin brushed sensitive skin there. "He can't die . . ."

Bumblebee and Bulkhead exchanged looks, and the yellow Autobot nudged her gently with his pointer digit. "Hey, don't worry, I bet he'll be okay," he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah, he's a strong 'bot," Bulkhead said. "He'll be just fine." He tapped his claw onto his chest-plating, and winked at her.

Sari continued to frown. Her hand dropped to her side, and through the fabric of her dress, she could feel the outline of her Allspark Key. Even though it was utterly useless, she still kept it close to her person. She hated the fact that it was drained of all power. If not, she could have used it on Blurr, and help him. She hung her head. The techno-organic couldn't help him, and it made her feel horrible. There were footsteps that echoed in the corridor, and Atomspark and Peacemaker appeared. They paused, and leaned against each other for support as their engine panted heavily. Ion arched an optic ridge.

"You tell them?" she asked, reaching out to touch their shoulders.

"Yes," Atomspark wheezed.

"It has b-been accomplished," Peacemaker said. "T-they have been informed upon t-the matter."

"How did they receive it?" Ion inquired with a hint of authority.

"Not well, n-not in the very least," Peacemaker said, bending over to grip his knees as he allowed his engine to cool down.

"They took it about as well as nitric acid and hydrazine mixing together," Atomspark stated, waving his servo down.

Ion frowned, and shook her helm as her hand rubbed at her cheek. "Oh, mech, that's not good," she said, gritting her dentals worriedly.

Jetfire and Jetstorm turned to stare at each other, confused about Atomspark's analogy, and they shrugged their shoulders. "What he be meaning?" he inquired.

"I not sure," Jetstorm said, shrugging his shoulders again. "What is happening when nitric acid and hydrazine mix?"

"Should we be finding out?"

"Sounds good, brother."

Optimus Prime looked at the two new mechs before him. "And, you are?" he inquired.

"Astomspark," the taller mech said. "And this is Peacemaker."

The other Autobot waved sheepishly, and stood erect. He seemingly ignored the very existence of Optimus, and glanced into the medical room. "Miss Ion, h-how is Blurr?" he asked, walking over to the glass and peered inside. The medics were watching over the cube meticulously and to be sure that he would be okay.

"Nothing's changed," Ion said softly.

"We're still waiting for the protoform," Optimus said.

Atomspark rubbed his neck, and frowned sternly. He shifted, and reached out to grip Ion's shoulder comfortingly. She turned to stare at his servo, and then rested her slender servo on his. Even though Ion was a strong-willed femme, but when it came to others, she always worried. Peacemaker tapped his digits together, a frown on his faceplate. Sentinel suddenly slammed his hand against the glass, and everyone turned to him, even the medics inside the other room turned towards the thick-plated glass.

"Slaggit, where is this idiot and what's taking him?" Sentinel snapped.

"Hey, SM, we've gotta wait, right?" Jazz said, holding up his hands. "I bet he's runnin' as fast as he can t' get here."

"Well, he better run faster," Sentinel said around a growl. "If he goes offline, do you know what the High Council will do to me if they find out—"

"What?" Optimus hissed, shifting his stance to a stern one. "The only reason you don't want Blurr to go offline is because you're worried about what the High Council will do?"

"Well—um, no—"

"Man, sometimes you're as thick as wood," Bumblebee said, crossing his servos over his chest. "And since you probably don't know what the means, it means that you're a slaggin' idiot."

"Hey," Sentinel snapped, stomping his pede onto the floor and approached Bumblebee, staring him down. "Watch what you say, Bumblebee. I'm Magnus here—"

"You're not a Magnus! That title belongs to Ultra!" Bumblebee snapped back. "Not you. _Never_ you."

"Yeah," Sari said, pointing an accusing finger at the Magnus. "Ultra's _twice_ the Autobot you'll _ever_ be."

It grew deathly silent in the corridors. Sentinel clamped his mouth shut, twitching, and glared down at the techno-organic perched on the yellow Autobot's shoulder. She glared right back. Judging from what she had heard about Ultra Magnus and since she already met Mr. The-Asshole-With-The-Big-Damn-Chin, she could come to the safe conclusion that the prior Magnus was more of a man (Autobot) than Sentinel. Just then, a male's voice uttered in the still silence:

"Burn! _Burn_! You just got _burned_! _Ha_!" Atomspark laughed, leaning against the silent and astonished Peacemaker (who also just happened to be smiling like an idiot). "I felt that from here! _Ouch_!"

He laughed uproariously, and even Peacemaker joined in by lightly chuckling. Ion had a hand covering her mouth, concealing her smile and winked at Sari. Everyone seemed to be snickering even if they tried to keep it silent, but Sentinel heard it all. His dentals gritted together, and he glared at them all, and they quickly silenced.

"Listen, you little bratty organic," Sentinel hissed, jabbing a digit towards Sari. "You better keep quiet, or else."

"Or else, what?" Sari mocked.

Before he could say anything else, Optimus stood in front of Sari and Bumblebee, staring down at Sentinel. "Don't make any threats, Sentinel," he said firmly.

"I'm Sentinel _Magnus_, Prime," he growled. "I can do whatever I want."

Peacemaker twitched, arching a shy optic ridge to the Magnus. "Um, Sentinel Magnus, I don't think a-abusing the power of Magnus is a very good idea," he said slowly. "Being a true leader—"

"Oh, shut up, Peacemaker," Sentinel snarled, whipping around to glare at the small orange and tan mech. "Why don't you keep silent. You're good at that."

Peacemaker twitched, optic ridges furrowing as he hung his helm, taking the order to spark. Atomspark puffed out his chest, an angry expression upon his faceplate, and his servos became fists. "Hey, don'tcha talk to Peace like that!" he shouted.

"Yeah," Ion said, making a bold step forward. "What has he ever done to you?" Her visor narrowed. "What's with you and picking on Autobots that won't and can't fight back?"

"Hey, hey, it's perfectly f-fine," Peacemaker said, motioning his hands calmly, his face nervous. "Let's not fight, please? F-fighting will get us nowhere."

"Yeah," Jazz added, shifting awkwardly, holding his servos up once more. "Let's all take a breather, as the humans would say."

But Sentinel could not drop it or "take a breather":

"You know what, I had enough of your fraggin' garbage. Whether you _like_ it or not, I _am_ Magnus until Ultra awakens, or if—_if_—he goes offline. Now you are going to treat me with respect or else—"

"Oh, would you just shut up?"

All turned to the silent Cliffjumper. He had spoken for the first time in a long while. His dentals were gritted downward, his fists trembling, and his face was stricken with unleashed anger. He lifted his helm, staring hard at Sentinel.

"Let me make it very simple for you," the red Autobot spat, standing up from the seat. "Nobot here cares about what you think. You can be Primus for all we care—your feelings are not more important than Blurr's. Right now, Blurr is the more important one. Not _me_. Not _them_. Not _you_. _Him_. Now, he is the only thing that matters here. _Not you_. Now get it out of your processor!"

Sentinel stared at the mech, who had a firm stance. There was a quietness that echoed deafly in the corridors. The silence was only broken when a small medic Autobot zipped by with a protoform tucked over his shoulder (all watched him with surprise), and he entered the room where the other medics were, and all turned directly to the window, all forgetting the argument. Inside the room, Ratchet watched as First Aid place the protoform on another table. Red Alert shifted, and turned to stare at Ratchet.

"Okay," she said. "Are you ready?"

Ratchet's engine sighed, and he nodded his helm. "Right," he said.

His optics noticed the spark once more, seeing the round blue mass beat steadily, unwilling to die—unwilling to yield to give up.

* * *

><p><strong>Never mix nitric acid and hydrazine together, unless you want your house to blow up.<strong>


	6. Welcome Back to Life, Blurr

**I tried to update this yesterday, but FanFic wouldn't work for some reason. *shrug* Anyways, since First Aid has no real design in the TFA series, I mildly based his look after an amazing artist that did their rederation of him. Their name is farfie-kins. Seriously, go look at their art. IT IS AMAZING.**

**I'll try to update again this month; I've been writing a lot for this story. :3 But then again, I'm searching for a job, which I may aquire in a few weeks at the local resturant! :D Wish me luck! I need monies so I can waste it on Transformers action figures and shit for my art.**

* * *

><p>Welcome Back to Life, Blurr<p>

VI

All, behind the thick-plated glass, watched, and all were concerned about the little blue cube that sat in the middle of an operating table.

Ratchet grabbed his tools, preparing for the grueling work ahead of him. He had seen horrible things while in war, but this, by far, had to be the sickest thing he had ever come across. Red Alert grabbed the equipment she was going to use—a blow torch and pliers, and all the while she had a beyond-worried look etched across her face. However, she remained utterly calm, knowing that if she were to panic, Blurr could go offline. With the flick of a switch, she turned the blow torch on; the tip of the tool bore a glowing a white-blue flame. A small, hot flame appeared at the tip. She turned to her assistants, a determined look on her face.

"First Aid, I want you to hook up the wires to the protoform," she ordered curtly.

He nodded his helm, and did what was required of him. He scurried over to the protoform, attaching wires to the vital places of the spark-less shell. The small Autobot kept his gaze away from the cube as much as he could; he was obviously sickened by it and felt horrible for the agent. Red Alert turned to the other medic, a stern look on her face.

"Now, the moment we cut away the metal, I want you to grab his spark, and place it into the protoform. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, ma'am," he answered, voice shaky.

"You must take the utmost care when doing so. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good."

Red Alert turned to Ratchet. "Are you ready?" she inquired, taking a final glance over his form.

The old mech shifted slightly as his body grew stiff. "Yes," Ratchet answered, nodding his helm curtly.

Red Alert blinked her optics, and then handed her pliers to him. "Good," she said, her blue optics firm on his. "When I cut away at the metal, I want you to pull it away from his spark. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Good."

She seemed to be delaying somewhat—like she was afraid herself. She was scared about what could happen if she were to fail. Her servos trembled, and in a firm, swift motion, she grasped her servos into fists to calm her gitters. Shifting on her pedes, she observed the cube, thinking of the best way to perform the cutting without doing anymore damage to the poor intelligence agent. Sentinel, who was watching with growing anger, then smashed his fist into the glass, which caused her to jerk away and look at him. He glared at her, and she could read what he was mouthing at her:

"Move it."

_Jerk_.

Ion cast a glare (her teal lips quicky curled up into a scowl) at him as Atomspark huddled closer to her to comfort her. He placed an arm over her pointed shoulders, letting his thumb move in a carrassing motion on the said shoulder plating. Ion rather liked the tender gesture, but then grew stiff as she met his optics met with hers. After a moment, they pulled away (both glancing the other way so they would not stare at each other), and Peacemaker (completely oblivious to his two friends beside him flashed the medic femme a nervous, but the calming smile that he gave her gained her some form of comfort.

After a moment or so, after calming her rattling circuits, Red Alert moved. She started to cut at the metal, slowly and precisely. Ratchet watched Blurr's spark that was encased in the twisted metal—it thumped violently. He could feel the pain. The old mech grimaced, watching the spark flutter and shift.

"Hang on, kid," he crooned to Blurr, his gruff voice now smooth like a newly waxed surface. "We're going to help you. Just ignore the pain for now."

But it seemed that Blurr could not. His spark continued to beat wildly; flashing sparks of blue and pale white. He was in pain. He was drowning in complete and utter agony, and death would probably be greeted as an old friend if Blurr had to pick between this and death. As Ratchet pulled the hot metal away from Red Alert's cutting, he gave the block of twisted metal consoling pats to calm him. It did not do much to keep him tranquil. The more Red Alert cut, the more the spark twitched in agony. Ratchet's optic ridges furrowed as he gritted his dentals.

"I know it hurts, kid, but ya gotta hang on. Okay?"

The spark throbbed weakly in response.

Ratchet rubbed the metal calmly, hoping vainly that it would soothe Blurr. Behind the thick-plated glass, all watched, sickly entranced with what they were viewing. Jetfire comfortingly gripped his brother, looking at his pained face.

"You being okay, brother?" the orange and yellow Autobot inquired gently.

"Yes," Jetstorm replied, leaning against his brother. "I am being just okie for dokie."

Jetfire frowned, his servos rubbing up and down the blue and navy colour-schemed Autobot reassuringly. Jazz peered over to the brothers as they consoled each other, and then he glanced over to the medics working on Blurr. Optimus felt himself press his servos to the glass, watching the scene before him. Peacemaker was trembling, gripping his own servoss in a vice grip. Ion rested her hand to the orange and tan mech's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Atomspark had his servo at the base of Ion's back, and his digits rubbed soothingly. Her visor turned up to his optics, and he offered her a promising smile. She nodded, turning away from those kind optics of hers to the surgery in the other room. Sentinel looked peeved—tapping his pede on the floor and crossing his arms over his chest. Sari glared at him. He was not even worried so much as a drop about Blurr, he only cared about making sure that Blurr would survive so the High Council would not bother him about the agent anymore. Bumblebee tapped his digits together, worrying about his friend-rival in the other room.

* * *

><p>"<em>H—hello? Who-goes-there? Why-am-I-in-pain? Make-it-stop."<em>

* * *

><p>Ratchet pulled away the metal that Red Alert had cut away using her blow torch (once again), though he would glance occasionally at the spark that refused to be extinguished. He frowned sternly as he pulled away the hot metal, and Red Alert began to cut at the metal once more. The process was on-going and very slow. As Earthlings would say, turtles could move faster (whatever a "turtle" was) than the situation that was currently going on. The spark was pounding in agony, and Ratchet placed his free hand to the cube to calm him once more.<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>L—Longarm-the-traitor . . . He-did-this—he-hurt-me . . .<em>"

* * *

><p>"Are we any closer?"<p>

"Yes, Ratchet," Red Alert said, pulling her tool away, and looked at her work. The metal Ratchet pulled away exposed the spark more fully—flaps of cooling metal stuck awkwardly outward at all sides. Still, the spark could not be reached; more metal had to be cut away to retrieve it. "We need to cut more."

"Right," Ratchet said, nodding his helm. "I suggest not getting any closer to the spark. Cut away the metal you have cut already."

"Just what I was thinking," Red Alert stated, turning the tool back on, and started to cut.

* * *

><p>Cliffjumper had his servos covering the front of his face. The atmosphere around in this room was stale. Not a single one wanted to talk—they did not want to break the silence that had accompanied this harshly and deafly silent room. The red Autobot shivered, and then lifted his helm to the group.<p>

"H-how's the surgery?" he demanded softly.

Peacemaker had a servo covering his mouth as he watched. It appeared to be that he was thoroughly disgusted and sickened by what he was watching, but he was unable to turn himself away. He was not completely sure as to why. However, his optics flicked over to Cliffjumper.

"I—I don't know," he wheezed. "I can't take it anymore . . ."

He pulled himself from the glass, and plopped down next to the red mech secretary. Even though he was unable to feel exactly what Cliffjumper was feeling, he was in pain and that was all that mattered; he needed comfort. Just like the orange and tan mech, Jetfire and Jetstorm had pulled away (not too long ago) and they were comforting each other lovingly. The others were strangely drawn to the scene before him, Bulkhead, Sari, and Bumblebee (all three of them turning away every once in a while, gagging, and then all three of them turning right back to the glass to watch the scene lay out before them) wincing once in a while, but then going back to watching—the process would repeat itself (Arcee also could not watch the surgery and had turned her back to it; her hand covering his mouth). Optimus twitched every once in a while, a frown upon his lips. The orange and tan mech let out a relieved sigh, and wondered as to why he had not moved away from the glass sooner. Perhaps it was because he was worried about the intelligence agent and he wanted to make sure that he would survive. But he could not take the carnage anymore—his processor could not handle it. Cliffjumper glanced at him for a moment, and then hung his helm. Ion frowned, staring at the mech.

"Poor 'bot," she whispered. "He must feel horrible."

"Yeah, no doubt that he will be questioned," Atomspark responded. "And that won't help the mech."

"No, not at all," Ion said, letting out a sigh. "I'll have a talk to the officers before they do anything to him or interrogate him."

"Good idea. That is, if you can."

"They'll probably ignore me."

"Just try. You'll never know."

Ion nodded her helm, arms crossed over her chest, and she stared at the red Autobot. "I mean, look at him."

Atomspark glanced over again at Cliffjumper, and then turned to stare at Ion. "Yes, I know," he said, pulling her closer to his frame. "Do . . . do you want me to talk to him?"

Ion glanced at the position she was in with Atomspark. He had her in a one-arm embrace, something they had not done since they . . . Ion shifted uncomfortably, and then slowly pulled from Atomspark's touch. He frowned, and the femme nodded her helm, throwing her thumb component over her shoulder, as if to say, "go talk to him."

Atomspark's engine internal fans wheezed, and the mech approached Cliffjumper, who still looked horribly miserable. Peacemaker was rubbing at his back, and turned up to look at Atomspark. The other mech bobbed his helm, and took a seat next to the red mech.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up, mech," Atomspark said slowly. "This isn't your fault."

Cliffjumper frowned sternly. "Then why do I feel so bad, then?" he asked, optics turning up to stare at the scientist.

"B-because you have a conscious," Peacemaker said with a small smile. "A-all good 'bots have 'em."

"Yeah, Peace's right," Atomspark said with a grin. "Would you feel better if you talked to Blurr about this after the surgery?"

Cliffjumper lifted his helm up, and he nodded slowly. "Yeah, that does sound like a good idea," he said. "If he will talk to me."

"I'm sure he w-will," Peacemaker stated with a shy smile. "B-Blurr's a good 'bot, I-I'm sure of it. H-he'll forgive you. He knows t-that it wasn't your fault."

Cliffjumper looked between the two mechs, and then nodded his helm again. "You're right," he said softly. He lifted his helm up higher, and then his optics narrowed. Shockwave did that to Blurr, not him—he was tricked by that villain. That traitor. _Double-spy traitor_. A scowl stretched its way on his faceplate, and his body convulsed.

Shockwave.

* * *

><p>"<em>N<em>—_no-no-no—n-n-n—no-don't-k-k-k-k-ki—ill-me! My-my—my-spark!_"

* * *

><p>The spark lay open amongst flayed metal—the innards were stained bright Energon pink. It was completely vulnerable; it throbbed meekly and whimpered. Ratchet frowned sternly as he pulled away the last bit of hot metal, exposing the spark so easily—he was extremely vulnerable now. Anybot could take a shard of metal and stab it, killing him in the blink of an optic. It would be so easy, like pouring Energon tea into a cup or crushing a flower. Red Alert let out a shaky sigh, and turned off her tool.<p>

"Okay, we're here," she said, putting her tool off at the side.

Red Alert and the other medics stared at the spark, and the only femme of the group let out another shaky sigh, and she turned to Ratchet.

"O-okay, how do we do this properly?"

Ratchet looked at her, and frowned as he tapped at his wrist in thought. "Right, what we have to do is carefully remove his spark by scooping out the spark from the metal, and quickly—_carefully_—put it into the protoform," he said slowly and firmly. "Somebot with small servos should do this job." He looked at his servos. "Not mine."

Red Alert stared at her slender, long servos. "I don't think mine will do the trick," she said.

Both Ratchet and Red Alert stared at First Aid and the other medic's servos. The one with the smallest servos was First Aid. Once he came to the realization that he was the one that had to do the job, his model trembled. Red Alert placed her servo to his shoulder, and squeezed gently.

"Don't worry, you'll be just fine," she said comfortingly. "I will guide you."

"Right," First Aid stated, slowly approaching the cube and staring at the spark. "Okay—ri-right."

"Just relax, and gently cradle it in your servos," Red Alert said calmly. "I believe in you."

"R—right," First Aid said, the backs of his servos pressed to his chest as he stared at the spark. He was scared out of his processor. "G-gently remove it. Got it."

He did not move, and the medics stared at him, expecting him to do something—anything would be nice. The femme medical Autobot watched him, her calm face slowly turning into an agitated one. The other medic gently prodded at First Aid, hoping that he would do something.

"Any solar-cycle would be nice, First Aid," Red Alert stated.

"Sorry," he said, moving forward, and dipping his servos carefully downward.

"Now, gently scoop upward," Red Alert said, keeping her voice leveled and smooth. "Be very careful."

"R-right," he said.

First Aid moved his servos downward, his digit-tips touching the warmth of the said spark, and it flickered to the touch. This part was the most awkward part of this was because First Aid was touching a spark—touching sparks was something intimate and it had a sexual nature to it. Lovers stroking the other's sparks with their servos or pressing their sparks together was extremely pleasurable and highly personal. And, of course, the spark was the source of life for all Cybertronians. So, it was no wonder why First Aid was nervous about touching the spark. He scooped the orb, its warmth pulsating in his palm as he held it close to his body. Ratchet nodded, staring at the only life-source and the only part of Blurr that had mercifully survived.

"Okay, good job, kid," Ratchet said. "Now, place the spark in the protoform just as carefully as you did to remove it."

First Aid could only stare at the warm spark in his palms, knowing that there was a life literally in the palm of his hands. He slid across the slick floor slowly, inching closer and closer to the protoform. Red Alert paid close attention to the smaller mech, and watched as he gently placed the spark into the new chamber. First Aid jerked back as the spark fit perfectly into the new chamber. There was a hiss, and all watched as the protoform slowly conformed to Blurr's sleek model. Of course, he was missing his helm, his lofty shoulders; the empty wheels on his thin pedes, his arm-guards, and his hip-pieces. He was very simple looking, but unmistakably Blurr.

All perked with excitement, and Ion quickly turned to Cliffjumper, Peacemaker, and Atomspark. "He's okay!" she shouted, her voice laced in glee. "He's okay! He's alive!"

The three mechs practically ran to the glass, staring at the mech with excitement and unrestrained joy. Bumblebee whistled, and Sari clapped her hands together. Peacemaker leapt at Ion, hugging the femme tightly as both laughed happily. Atomspark then joined in, all three scientists embracing each other. Bulkhead did the same, but grabbed Bumblebee, hugging him tightly as Sari gripped the yellow Autobot—she was still laughing. Optimus Prime let out a deep sigh, hanging his helm as he allowed himself to relish in the joy. Cliffjumper cheered, a large and uncharacteristic grin spread its way on his face as he pumped his fist in the air. Arcee, Jetstorm, and Jetfire were jumping up and down, and both brothers lunged at each other in a warm hug. Sentinel frowned, but then let out a deep sigh.

"Yah, that's how we do it!" Jazz said, nudging Cliffjumper with his elbow. "Give me five!" He held up his servo to the small red mech.

"All the way!" Cliffjumper laughed, slapping his servo to Jazz's.

Ion pulled away from her mech partners, placing her each of her servos to one of their shoulders.

"Go tell the others," she said, a smile unable to leave her faceplate.

They nodded, speeding away like children allowed to go to a candy store.

First Aid let out a deep sigh as he stumbled back, resting against the other mech medical Autobot, who gripped him comfortingly. "Nice job, buddy," he said.

First Aid nodded his helm, a proud smile on his face. The machines that were attached to Blurr's model kicked on, and it started to send fresh Energon into the body. Red Alert approached the agent, reaching down to grip his servo and rub her digits across his knuckles. She turned her helm up, staring at her medical Autobots—mostly First Aid.

"Good job," she said, a smile on her face.

The mech nodded, relaxing greatly. Ratchet approached the slender mech, staring down at him with a rare soft smile. Slowly, optics opened—sky blue optics stared upward, drinking in their surroundings. Blurr slowly turned his helm towards Red Alert, who smiled at him. His face was completely swept of all emotion as he stared at the femme before him. Blurr slowly blinked, feeling his body come alive bit by bit, and he turned to stare at the machines before turning to look at her.

"Hi, Blurr," she said softly. "Welcome back."

He slowly blinked his optics; his fresh processor relaying old images of the past and the last few kilks before he was crushed into a cube. He blinked his optics again, staring at her, his new servo feeling hers in his. He turned his helm again, staring at the old model Autobot with a blank expression.

"W . . . where . . . a-a-am . . . I . . .?" he asked slowly.

"The surgery room," Red Alert answered, placing her servo to his cheek. She felt so proud of her crew and of herself. They had rescued this brave 'bot from the grasps of death.

He stared at her for a moment, his processor taking in all the information that she was telling him. Blurr felt strange and ridiculously tired. His optics then widened, and he jolted upward.

"_Shockwave_!"

A sharp pain entered his model, and he hissed in pain, gritting his dentals tightly until they groaned at the pressure. Ratchet and Red Alert gently placed their servos down on his shoulders, pushing him gently down to put his back to the berth.

"Don't move, kid," Ratchet said. "You're still recovering. You need to relax."

"You're not strong enough," Red Alert stated, that smile never leaving her lips.

Blurr turned to stare at the old Autobot. "Wh—where is Ssshhhhockwave?" he asked, voice slurring thickly. It was like he had something in his mouth that was causing him to speak strangely.

"Arrested and put in prison with Megatron, Lugnut, some Starscream clones, and Blitzwing," Ratchet answered with a smirk.

Blurr's face went from completely and utterly stunned to a tried, gleeful smile, and he whispered a long and slow: "_Yesssss_." He reclined on the berth, feeling a sense of relief rush over his body and spark. Red Alert chuckled, and then smiled more broadly. "We'll explain the rest to you later," she said. "Now, you just rest now."

"O-oookay," Blurr said, nodding his helm, that smile never leaving his faceplate. It felt so good to be alive. A wonderful feeling to have.

Ratchet patted the mech's bare shoulder, smiling still. "Nice to have you back with us, kid," the old mech said.

"N-n-nice toooo . . . be b-back, sir."


	7. A Very Long Solar Cycle

**Eh, how's it going? Drew my OCs in their Cybertronian modes. La: artistdragon . deviantart art/ SOTE - We - re - Scientists - Baby - 294187749**

**Just to give you an idea what they look like.**

* * *

><p>A Very Long Solar-Cycle<p>

VII

"So, will he be okay?"

Red Alert glanced at Sari, who was gripping her hands tightly. The femme smiled sweetly at the human, although there was a tired look upon her face. "He will be okay," she answered curtly, rubbing at her neck soothingly. "Don't worry, he will recover."

Optimus watched Ratchet and the other mechs tend to Blurr, who was now in deep recharge. He barely moved, which was good. It meant that he would not awake anytime soon. Blurr needed rest; that was all that he needed so he would return to his full self—the Blurr everybot and everone knew. The old medic would gently pat his blank shoulders of the speedster as a form of comfort every once in a while, and offered a slight smile to the intelligence agent, even though Blurr could not see it. The Prime turned, staring at the femme medic.

"How long will it take him to recover?" Optimus inquired.

"Five solar-cycles, seven at the most," she answered swiftly, her face completely calm. "But do not worry, Optimus Prime, he will recover just fine. All he needs is a long stasis recharge, Energon, and his recovery will be fast. I assure you."

The Magnus had his arms crossed over his broad chest, his gaze fixed on Blurr. He looked very pleased that Blurr was going to be safe, and a shiver of relief rushed down his back strut. "Good," Sentinel growled deeply, shifting to stare down at the femme. "Just keep an optic on him at all times. I don't want him going offline. Is that understood?"

Optimus could not help but to quirk a smile at his estranged friend. Despite it all, Sentinel wanted to be like Ultra Magnus: be a good leader and look after his people. It was such a shame that his view was muddled and distorted.

"Sir, yes, sir," she answered.

"Good," he stated. Sentinel shifted, and after a strange moment of thick silence, he turned to stare at Ion. "Perceptor would like to talk to you."

The teal and white femme looked at the Magnus in mild surprise. "For what, sir?" she asked, cocking an optic ridge. She shifted on her high heel pedes, and remained stoic.

"He has something for you," he answered, waving a servo in the air. "Or he has something to tell you. I don't remember. Just go see him."

Ion paused, thinking about what he would need, but then she shrugged her shoulders and gave a nod of the helm. "Okay, thank you, sir," she said quietly, staring at him for a moment. Ion turned to Optimus' group, and smiled. "Well, it was a pleasure to meet all of you. I bid you farewell."

"It was a pleasure meeting you as well," Optimus said, a smile tugging at his lips. "I hope we see you soon."

"Yeah," Bulkhead said, tapping his servos together. "Tell Peacemaker and Atomspark the same thing, okay?"

"Will do," Ion said with a grin. "Goodbye, now." She waved her left servo, and moved down the corridor (not before giving a kind smile to Cliffjumper) and left the room to visit her emotionally-dead boss. She vanished in the long metal corridors of the building; the only thing that could be heard was the tapping of her pedes on the floor before that banished as well.

"She was nice," Sari remarked to Bumblebee.

"Yeah," he replied simply.

Sentinel then turned to Cliffjumper, who had now approached the glass, watching as the medical staff prepared to move Blurr to another room of the complex or perhaps the infirmary that Ultra Magnus was residing. Either way, he would be safe. He let out the deep sigh he was holding in, and allowed his servo to drop at his side.

"Cliffjumper," Sentinel said sternly, staring at the small red Autobot. "You're coming with me."

Cliffjumper looked at the Magnus, a frown on his lips. "Am I under arrest, sir?" he asked, optics narrowing into slits.

"Yes."

The only Prime in the room took a bold step forward, servos up. "Whoa, whoa, Sentinel," Optimus said, approaching the side of the blue and grey Autobot. "He shouldn't be arrested; he should serve in court to aid against the Decepticons, not be treated as a criminal."

"Look, Optimus," Sentinel began, "I know you think you're the boss around here, but you're not. I am. Alright? I'm acting Magnus. Not you. _Me_. Now, Cliffjumper is going to be arrested until he I think he's been proven clear."

Cliffjumper frowned sternly, staring at the Magnus. "Sir, I made a mistake," the red Autobot said, growling lowly. "Why should I get arrested like I'm a Decepticon?"

Optimus stared hard at Sentinel. "Shockwave did that to Blurr, not Cliffjumper," the Prime stated smoothly. "Shockwave has lied and deceived us for a very long time, and who knows what else he has done to other Autobots. But right now, all we know is that he used Cliffjumper to—for lack of a better word—_disposed_ of Blurr by complete accident. You can't simply arrest him by an accident."

Sentinel frowned, and despite hearing Optimus' long-winded speech, grabbed Cliffjumper's arm, and tugged him along. "Look, Optimus, I am Magnus, and I am going to take him to be spoken to, according to the _law_," he said, arching an upper lip, and narrowed his optics. "So, if you would excuse me, _Optimus_."

Sentinel pushed past Optimus and his friends, gripping the agitated Cliffjumper tightly as both walked along. The red Autobot was glaring at the would-be Magnus with seething loathing. Though, he seemed conflicted; like he did not _want_ to hate his Magnus, but found himself doing just that. Optimus frowned, crossing his arms over his chest-plate.

"Ah, don't worry, Optimus," Bulkhead said, nudging the Prime with his servo. "Everybot will find Cliffjumper innocent. It was an accident, and he didn't know."

"Yeah, Boss-bot, and we'll be in court if we have to so we can stick up for him," Bumblebee said, a grin tugging at his lips.

Optimus nodded his helm, and his servo rubbed at his neck. "Yes, yes, I know," he said in a low tone. "I don't know how to get through to him. Sentinel can be so thick at times."

"I think you'll have a better chance 'getting through' to a wooden pole," Sari said, rolling her eyes. "He's not going to change."

Jazz let out a sigh, and shrugged his shoulders. "Eh, I don't think that SM will change," the Elite Guard member stated. "I've been wit' 'im fer stellar-cycles. He's always been like that. You've known him longer than I, SM, ya should know."

Acree's brows furrowed and her servos rubbed at her wrists. "Poor Cliffjumper," she said in a whisper. "It must be a load on his shoulders." She turned to the window, seeing Ratchet tend to Blurr with last-cycle things. He spoke to the other medical 'bots with an obvious leader-like disposition, and they recorded everything that he was telling them.

"Don't worry, ma'am," Red Alert said to Arcee, who turned to stare directly at the other femme. "Everything will be alright, I assure you."

Arcee nodded her helm, a frown still etched onto her faceplates. "I know, but it's all happening so fast, and . . ." Her sentence fizzled away, and she let out a deep sigh. "It's so sad . . ."

Jetstorm and Jetfire exchanged a look, muttered something in some langauge that Sari recognized as Russian (is that what the Cybertronian's called it on this planet?), and the Jet Twins approached her each of her side, both of them gripping each of her arms tenderly.

"Yes, miss, everything will be okie for dokie," Jetfire said, winking playfully at her.

"Yes, Blurr is being just safe, and Autobots will be kicking serious skid plate soon," Jetstorm said, grinning widely at her and at the thought.

Arcee smiled at the accented Elite Guard Autobots at her side. "Thank you," she said, pulling them in for a tight hug. "That makes me feel so much better."

Optimus shifted in his place, and felt an on-coming yawn. He closed his optics, and stretched out his arms in response. "Well, I believe it's time for all of us to have a nice, long recharge," he said, staring at his group of friends.

He felt a little weird leaving Ratchet and Blurr alone, but when he turned to the older mech, it was obvious that he wanted Prime and the others to leave. He mouthed something along the lines of "get some rest," and waved his servo in the air.

Bulkhead let out a chuckle as he rubbed the back of his helm. "Yeah, I do need a long recharge," he said, looking at Optimus.

Jazz's mouth twitched in a smile. "It's been a long solar-cycle, eh?" the white-coloured Autobot asked.

Optimus smiled back at the Elite Guard member. It had been a horrible one at that. Dealing with the loss of a good friend and Autobot, and not really having the time to mourn his loss (and what his crew really needed was a long time to properly mourn him), and finding Blurr being crushed into a cube and staying in the medical bay until he finally shut himself off into a deep stasis; yes, it had been a very long solar-cycle.

"Yeah, it has been a long one."

* * *

><p>"So, will we go back to Earth tomorrow?"<p>

Optimus glanced down at Sari, who sat at the edge of a desk. She had her legs dangle listlessly at the end of it, which made them swung back and forth. The Prime rubbed at his cheek, and suppressed a yawn as he stared at her.

"You know I can't stay here long before I get hungry," she said. "And you know I can't eat your food or beverages. I have to get back to Earth."

"Yes, that I know," Optimus said, taking his seat on his berth, and started to get comfortable. "I will explain that to Alpha Trion and the others that we have to return to Earth. I'm sure that they will understand."

"Do you think the High Council will want to talk to us soon?" Bulkhead inquired, laying down on his berth, and let out a pleased sigh as he rested his servos on his stomach.

"Probably, with all that's been happening and what we've done and been doing in the last orbital-cycles," Optimus said, shifting again. "But they will understand that Sari needs to return her home to get food."

"Yeah, I mean, they won't be so sparkless as to not let her go home to eat," Bumblebee said, approaching Sari, and allowing her to climb into his servos. "Well, let's just get some rest, okay, boss-bot?"

"Of course."

Bumblebee rested on his berth, and placed Sari on his chest. She shifted to become comfortable, and curled up against his warm chest-plate, and he placed a servo on her sleek body. She smiled at him, and he returned it before he closed his optics, and prepared his body to sleep. Sari glanced at her friends, noticing that they were doing the same thing.

"Goodnight, Sari," Bumblebee said around a yawn.

"Goodnight, Bumblebee," she returned. Sari then glanced at the others. "Goodnight, everyone."

Bulkhead yawned, and waved a servo at her. "'Night, Sari, Bumblebee," he said before getting comfortable once more and fell into sleep.

"Goodnight, Sari and Bumblebee," Optimus returned with a shy smile.

Sari watched the Autobot get cozy to his berth, and she then snapped her head up, seeing Arcee sitting upward, and looking out the thick-panned window.

"Arcee?"

The pink femme turned to stare at the techno-organic, and smiled sweetly. "Yes, Sari?" she inquired.

"Are you going to sleep—recharge?"

Arcee nodded her helm. "Yes, I will, when Ratchet returns," she said, resting her servos on her lap. "You get some rest now, Sari."

Sari eyed her for a moment, and then gave a nod of her head. Ratchet was still with Blurr—moving him to a safe place where he could fully recover. He would not be back until late. "Okay, if that's what you want," she said, resting her head on Bumblebee's chest. "Goodnight, Arcee."

"Goodnight, dear."

Sari smiled, and then started to drift off into her own sleep.

* * *

><p>A slender Autobot model painted pale green and grey sat at a desk. The room he was in was a little laboratory. Behind him was a set-up of chemical products—beakers, tubes, siphons, spoons, and whatnot were there, ready and waiting. To the right of him were selves filled with data pads that had the Autobot's recordings, both writing and voice recordings. He was surrounded with stacks of data pads, which sat on his desk neatly, and was reading the text on one of his pads. He was taking a break from his work and reading a rather fascinating novel. He was so highly engrossed in it that when he heard a loud slam, he jumped in his seat, nearly dropped his data-pad on the floor, and he whipped around, seeing Ion with a gleeful expression.<p>

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she exclaimed, jumping up and down in her place.

Then Atomspark slid in expertly into the room, servos stetched outwards at his sides, and he laughed. "Bring on the high-grade Energon," he boomed as he pumped a fist into the air.

Peacemaker was next, brimming innocently but obviously very happy. The green and grey Autobot stared at the trio (his little group of friends), his pointed lofty shoulders slumped, and frowned. "What's all the excitement about?" he asked, arching an optic ridge to them, his optics half-open, like they always were. The mech always looked like he was bored or had something better to do.

Ion turned to him, and approached him. "Solarburn, you wouldn't believe what has happened!" she said, grinning.

Solarburn stared at the femme, the leader of their little group, and slowly blinked his orange optics. "Judging by your body language and the tone of your voice, it is something exciting and good," he said in a low mutter, scratching his straight chin and pointed chin.

"Oh, yes, it is," Ion said, her slender digits locking, and she completely ignored the bothered look on his faceplates. She glanced around the room as if she were looking for somebot. "Where is Starblaster?"

"He left to get me some Energon tea," Solarburn said dully, placing his data-pad down on the desk. "So, why are you so excited? Will you elucidate your glee?" His digits locked to form an arch, and he expertly crossed his legs.

"I will," Ion said, nodding her helm vigorously. "Once Starblaster returns. Meanwhile, Atomspark, bring out the high-grade Energon!"

"That's what I'm talking about!" the mech said, throwing his servos into the air, and he rushed to the cupboard that held the large bottles of intoxicating drink, only to make Solarburn frown more.

Peacemaker smiled at Atomspark's reaction, then playfully shook his helm, and moved over to his desk to take a seat. He reached over to snatch up a data pad, flicked it on with a tap of a digit, and started to read upon it. Atomspark grabbed the bottle, a few glasses in between a few slender digits, and shuffled over to a table, placing said items down on the glossy metal surface.

"Oh, yeah, time to celebrate!" the mech said, popping open the top of the bottle of high-grade Energon.

Solarburn frowned, staring at the grey and red Autobot scientist. "I will eagerly join in once I know why we are celebrating," he said in a monotone voice. He turned back to his data pad, and continued to read.

Ion looked at him, and placed a servo to her hip. "Solarburn, sometimes you are so stuffy," she said, shaking her helm.

"I am _not_ stuffy," Solarburn said with a huff and a stiff upper lip.

"Eh, ya kinda are, Solar," Atomspark said, pouring the liquid into a glass for Ion and himself.

Solarburn pursed his lip components and narrowed his bright orange optics at the silver-grey and red Autobot pouring drinks. "Well, forgive me if I don't leap for joy everytime something 'exciting' comes my way," he said. Solarburn then shook his helm, and turned back to his novel. Atomspark dramatically rolled his optics as he turned to Peacemaker.

"Hey, ya want a drink?" he called, arching an optic ridge to the orange and tan mech.

Peacemaker glanced up, and shook his helm. "N-no, I'm fine," he said. "You kn-know I don't drink."

Atomspark rolled his optics and sighed. "Ah, c'mon, Peace," he said. "One time you drank, and it was pretty fun! You remember, right?"

Peacemaker shifted, and stared hard at Atomspark. "I—it was only f-fun for you," he said, gripping his data pad. "You recorded t-the whole thing. A-and then you showed it to m-me the next morning."

Atomspark paused, blinking his optics, and then chuckled. The image of the normally closed-up Peacemaker yelling loudly and acting like a complete bumbling idiot on the dance floor made him chuckle even louder. "Oh, yeah," he said, grinning at the thought. "I remember that. I still have that video. I should watch it sometime."

Peacemaker pulled his legs onto his chair, and rested his data pad on his knees. "Everybot p-pointed and laughed at me," he muttered, staring hard at the screen. "I a-acted like a moron."

"And you fell upon my couch whining and complaining about it the very next solar-cycle," Solarburn called, turning his head away from his novel. "Took me forever for me to help you get over that. And I have you to thank for that, Atomspark."

"What?" the other scientist said, shrugging his shoulders. "It was just some harmless fun."

"Not to me," Peacemaker said softly, hugging his legs closer to his body.

Ion slapped her servo against Atomspark's helm, receiving a yelp from the mech, and he was worried about dropping his drink. "You are a real idiot sometimes," she muttered, taking a slow sip from her drink.

"Quite so," Solarburn said. "Peacemaker's already has enough problems, so he doesn't need you to aid to that."

"T-thank you," Peacemaker called, and then paused for a moment to think. "I think?" he added in an unsure whisper.

"You're welcome," Solarburn said, closing his optics and nodded his helm. "And remember: our session is tomorrow."

"G-got it."

Solarburn, of course, was part of Ion's little team, and in her team, each one had a specific specialty. He specialized in psychology and dabbled in psychiatry (he was a very good psychiatrist)—the study of the processor. Ion, as her name suggested, studied chemistry (and she was a physist, for one needed to know physics to understand chemisty). Peacemaker specialized in studying culture (or simply put: an cultural anthroplogist), and showed it to those who wanted to know about the culture of their own planet. Even now, he was reading reports about the culture of Cyber-Ninjas. And Atomspark, an engineer, would work with Wheeljack and Preceptor to make new technologies, well, though he was normally diving under the nearest table to hide from a sure-fire explosion caused by Wheeljack. However, Wheeljack had placed a thick pane of glass in his laboratory to take cover behind just in case there was (which there always was) an explosion.

And Starblaster?

A door opened, and, lo and behold, Starblaster slipped into the room with a cup of warm Energon tea in his right servo. There was a happy-go-lucky smile upon his thin lips, and his blue visor-covered optivs shined brightly and playful like always. His helm fanned out like a pilot's hat, and framed his slender face perfectly. His model, like Solarburn's, was sleek in the waist, but bulky in the chest. His wings folded into a back compartment, hiding them from other Autobots. After all, _most_ Autobots don't fly.

When the experiments of Jetfire and Jetstorm were so successful, it was thought that they should try to reprogram other Autobots into flying like Decepticons. After all, things were changing—flying Autobots were in the future. And Starblaster was a volunteer to be reprogrammed for flying. Solarburn, at first, objected to the idea of Starblaster allowing himself to be a test subject to an experiment, but Atomspark assured his protection. Now Starblaster was the first wave of flying Autobots. Many others were being tested as well to become flying Autobots.

Starblaster was the, qoute, "test subject" for almost all the scienists (mostly Perceptor, Wheeljack, and Atomspark). The poor 'bot has been reassembled, blown up, shot at, set on fire, and had the slag beat out of him more times than he could count. Even if he knew the number, he had forgotten. One too many times hitting the back wall and one too many times having his helm smash onto the floor. Now his entire body had been altered for flight. And he did it all for science.

"_Mon_ _chéri_," Starblaster called with a grin. "I brought jou jour tea!" He gave a little bow to his lover as he balanced a silver platter that held little oilcakes and his tea.

Solarburn glanced up, a ghost of a smile upon his lips. "Thank you," he said, taking the cup into his servos, and kissed Starblaster's cheek. "You're a dear."

Starblaster grinned, leaning into the touch. "Jour welcome," he said, Solarburn pulling back to get comfortable and to sip at his Energon tea. He took a oildcake into his needying digits, and pushed the second one to Solarburn.

Solarburn swerved to face Ion and the others as he crossed his slender legs while gripping his cup. "Now that Starblaster is here, what do you want to say?" he asked.

The other mech blinked behind his visor, staring at the others in confusion. "What? What did I miss?" he asked.

"Nothing," Solarburn said. "They've been waiting for you to comeback to tell."

Starblaster blinked, and then grinned childishly. "Ooooo, what is it?" he asked, pouncing on his pedes. "Is it a surprise?"

Ion looked to Atomspark, and both smirked.

"I should tell 'em," Atomspark declared, pounding his fist against his smooth metal chest.

"No way," Ion stated, narrowing her visor playfully. "_You_ lost the bet, so _I _should tell them. And, besides—" She thrust her servo out. "—pay up."

Starblaster arched an optic ridge to the scene. There was a bet and he had missed out on it? Curses. Solarburn was silent in his seat as his slender digits grazed his chin. It was interesting how the two of them interacted, despite of what had happened. Atomspark grumbled, gave a curt nod of the head, and pulled away. Ion grinned, lacing her digits together.

"We're going to Earth!"

Solarburn (he nearly dropped his cup of hot Energon tea) and Starblaster's faces turned into ones of pure shock and disgust. The flying Autobot gagged on the oilcake pieces that rested in his mouth, but quickly swallowed them down.

"O—organics?" Starblaster sputtered, twitching dangerously as he stared at Ion, Peacemaker, and Atomspark. "Filthy organics?"

"That disgusting planet?" Solarburn spat, cringing as he spoke as if the words he uttered left a foul taste in his mouth. "We're going to that _filthy_ planet?"

Ion rolled her optics as Atomspark placed a wad of pale blue credit bills on her desk.

"Look, here's what happened today . . . Just pay attention, okay? There's a lot that happened today."


	8. Craziness

Craziness

VIII

"So, let me get this straight," Solarburn said, lifting his servo in the air as he paced. "Optimus Prime and his crew crash-landed on this organic planet, Earth, some forty Earth stellar-cycles ago, Sentinel Magnus did nothing about it; went into stasis, woke up, and they lived on that planet for a few orbital cycles, became friends with a few humans, who helped fight the Decepticons, and now they are here back at home? And organics are not as dangerous as Sentinel Magnus has been saying, right?"

"Yep," Ion said, sitting in her chair, and rolling the liquid in her glass. She had heard everything from Sentinel's own mouth while speaking to Jazz (and she remembered the time when "Longarm Prime" pleaded with the blue mech to continue searching for Optimus and his mis-matched crew and Megatron's ship, but it fell on deaf audio receptors. Now that she thought about it, the reason why "Longarm Prime" wanted that to happen so he could find his leader). "I don't think that's everything. I do believe that there is more that I don't know about." She crossed her legs, and relaxed. "Probably the reason why 'Longarm' wanted there to be a search for Optimus and his crew: to find Megatron."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Solarburn muttered. "Anything else I need to know?"

"Don't forget that Wasp was not the spy," Atomspark stated, wagging a digit in the air as he crossed his legs.

"Other than that," Solarburn said dully, making a dramatic optic-roll.

"E-everybot knows that, A-Atomspark," Peacemaker said, legs tugged up at his abdomen tightly. "N-nothing new."

"Wasp was not a spy? When did that happen?" Starblaster called, gripping the sides of the seat. "I did not know that!"

Atomspark rolled his baby blue optics and sighed. Starblaster was _always_ the last to know about anything and everything; at all times.

"N-n-now you do," Peacemaker said, nodding his helm, and continued to read his novel. "Poor mech. D-do anybot know w-where he is?"

Atomspark shook his helm, and waved down his servo while adding a thoughtless shoulder-shrug. Peacemaker frowned, shook his helm, and turned back to his read. Solarburn and Starblaster exchanged looks, and the flier shrugged his shoulders in response. Solarburn then continued to speak:

"And Shockwave took on the 'Longarm' persona for thousands of stellar-cycles, spied on us Autobots and possibly leaked information and intelligence to the Decepticons. I know that, but he blackmailed Wasp so he could go undetected and build trust among us. Then when Blurr found out about the real spy, Shockwave crushed him into a cube, and used Cliffjumper to _throw him away_?"

"Basically, yeah," Atomspark said slowly. "Sick, isn't it?"

Starblaster shuttered in his chair. "_Oui_, it does make _moi_ sick," he said, gritting his dentals and rubbing the back of his helm. "C-crushed into a cube? _Ugh_."

"I know," Ion said, cringing at the memory. "I—it was gruesome."

"Is he okay?" Solarburn inquired—rather demanded.

"He's now recovering," Atomspark answered coolly. "He'll be fine."

The Autobot with the bright orange optics let out a heavy sigh, and recieved a comforting pat on the back from his lover and bondmate. "Thank Primus," he said, placing a servo over his chest. "And Cliffjumper?"

"Um, arrested," Ion said slowly.

Solarburn twitched angrily at the statement. His old patient was arrested? He then let out another sigh. "Well, I suppose that some mental health doctor will be brought in to question him," he said, his tone sombering. "Cliffjumper would never do that. It's not him; I should know."

Starblaster reached over, and gripped his lover's arm. "_Mon_ _chéri_, it's okay," he said slowly.

Solarburn took a glance at his lover, and nodded his helm. "Yes, I know," he stated in a low tone. "Perhaps I should stay here on Cybertron to watch him. His short tempers and all . . ."

The lover rubbed the doctor's arm comfortingly. It was just like Solarburn to worry about his patients, new or old ones. Starblaster kissed Solarburn's palm lovingly, and pulled him close. Solarburn relaxed under his touches, and smiled as he felt his lover's arms around his waist. The flight-borne Autobot cleared his throat, and spoke:

"So, do jou know when we shall leave for Earth?"

"No," Ion answered back. "I will ensure that I get the information sometime tomorrow."

"_Oui_," Starblaster responded, nodding his helm. He stood up, staring at his lover as he caressed the side of his helm. "Come, let us get some recharge time. It is late."

Ion glanced over to the digital clock at her right, and yawned, her processor realizing that it was indeed very late. "You're right, time to get some rest," she stated, taking her final drink of her beverage, and placed her glass to the side. "Tomorrow is a big solar-cycle. C'mon."

Atomspark gulped his Energon down, feeling trickle down his throat, and sighed softly. "Got it," he said, getting up from his chair, and placed his glass to the side, being far too lazy to pick said glasses up; that's what Peacemaker was for.

Ion turned to Peacemaker, who had not moved from his chair. "Peace, are you coming?" she asked, pausing at the doorframe.

Peacemaker glanced up, staring at her with a soft smile. "I—I will," he said. "I just want t-to read some more. It calms me."

Ion smiled, and nodded her helm. "Okay, goodnight, Peace," she said.

"Yeah, don't stay up to late, little buddy," Atomspark said, winking and giving a small wave.

"I won't," Peacemaker said.

Atomspark dimmed one light, and the little group left Peacemaker to his own. The orange and tan mech let out a sigh. Even though he loved his friends, sometimes it was just nice to have some alone time. He turned back to his data pad, and continued to read.

* * *

><p><em>Sari was in a world of white. It was strange, yet oddly mystical. There was no dimension here—white above her, white below her, white to the left, white to the right; there was no real world-ness to it; it was just there. Reaching out with a deft hand, trying to touch something, but there was nothing to touch. Sari slammed her foot on the "floor" and heard a minor echo. Was this her mind? Her subconscious? If so, she felt the sudden need to create buildings and bloody warp them like <em>Inception_ or something. She moistened her dry lips, and tapped her teeth with a fingernail. Just then, there was a colour flickering at her right. Blinking her eyes, she focused on it, and recognized it immediately. A cherry blossom petal. It floated through the whiteness listlessly and with great ease. She reached out with her hand, snatching the petal, and stared at it as it sat in the palm of her hand. It then dissolved into nothingness. She blinked, flexing her fingers with curiosity. She glanced around once more until she came upon the figure of one from her past. Prowl. He sat there, meditating (or "medicating" as Bumblebee used to say) in the lotus flower position. She perked with excitement._

"_Prowl!" she yelled giddily._

_He turned to her, and smiled as she ran over to him. She hugged his lower back, and a warm chuckle came from his throat. "Ah, Sari," he said, reaching over to scoop her up into his slender servos. "How good it is to see you again."_

"_Prowl, I missed you," she said, hugging his sleek thumb and other thin digits she could grab on to. "I missed you so much."_

"_I missed you too, Sari."_

"_I never got to say goodbye to you."_

"_I know. I'm sorry."_

"_No, don't be. You died a hero, Prowl." She beamed brightly up at him. "I'm so happy to see you, Prowl, even if this is a dream," she said, her sentence dissolving into sadness at the end. _

_A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and his knuckles brushed against his slender face. "Sari, I was the one who told you about Blurr," he said, waving a digit in the air. "How is he, by the way?"_

_She looked at him, completely devastated that this was all just a dream. "Well, he could be better, but then again, he could be worse," Sari answered, shrugging her shoulders. "He's recovering."_

"_Good," Prowl said, grinning. "I'm glad he is."_

_Sari then frowned, staring up at Prowl. "Will Cliffjumper be okay?" she asked in a mere whisper._

_The grin then faded away, and Prowl just stared at her. "He is innocent," Prowl said in a sure voice. "He did not know that Blurr was the cube. I have a feeling that the court will find him not guilty."_

"_I hope you're right."_

_Prowl smiled sadly at the little techno-organic in his palm. "Sari, Cliffjumper has always been loyal to us Autobots," he said. "You saw his reaction yourself, right? Did he look like the type that would be guilty of such a thing?"_

"_No, no of course not," Sari responded, crossing her arms over her chest. "But you know how Sentinel is—he's about as dense as a piece of wood! If he thinks you did something, he's going to be all over you like stink on a skunk!" She growled lowly at the thought._

_Prowl knew that she was indeed correct. Even though he had not known Sentinel for very long, it was obvious as day that he had the ego the size of his chin, and the undying arrogance of an millionaire. Speaking of Sentinel . . ._

"_Sari, there is something urgent I must speak to you about," the ninja said, his voice becoming more serious._

_She glanced up at him as her arms dropped to her side. "What?" she inquired._

"_It is about the Allspark fragments."_

"_What about them?"_

"_Sentinel wants to use them."_

"_For what?" Sari asked, arching a brow._

"_To kill Megatron," he answered swiftly. "He wants to abuse the power of the Allspark in killing Megatron. I feel he might go back to Detroit to retrieve as many as he can."_

"_A-are you sure?"_

"_I'm certain," he said._

_Sari looked at him for a moment. He felt so real. The metal that encased his body was warm to the touch, his heavily cultured voice was sounded spot-on, and his behavior was so like Prowl. Had she got to known him so well that she could picture him in her head so perfectly . . .? This was all a dream—Prowl was gone. Dead. There was no such thing as spirits and souls—afterlife and such. This was all in her head._

"_How do I know that this is really you and not a dream?" she asked, her florescent blue eyes narrowed. "Is this just a dream?"_

_He smiled wisely at her. "What do you think?"_

_And with that, everything vanished._

* * *

><p>Sari's eyes popped open, and she sat up. The young techno-organic panted heavily, eyes wide, sweat beading at her brow, and she quickly glanced around the room. No whiteness; only darkness. She could see the outline or her resting friends, deep in their recharge, and beneath her, Bumblebee let out throaty sounds. Sari sighed, placing a palm to her warm forehead. It was all a dream. The techno-organic shook her head sadly from side to side, and carefully lowered herself back down on her friend's smooth metal chest.<p>

All a dream; a dream she wished was real.

She snorted; she had really gone off the deap-end with her mourning.

* * *

><p>Swindle was officially the luckiest slagger on the face of the known universe.<p>

Thanks to the recent amount of profits that he had received from selling those "borrowed" weapons from the some alien rogue ship, (oh, and let's not forget those weapons he got from the Elite Guard's ship; those were quite pricey little items; indeed they were!) he could cease selling and take a break for a few solar-cycles before he returned to his perfect little job. Swindle slouched over a keyboard, staring at a computer screen as he read the amount of credits he had earned, and grinned.

"Well, this is a nice lump-sum of credits," he said, shrugging his shoulders as he reclined in his chair, kicking up his pedes on the table. "Primus, I love this business." He placed his servos behind his helm, and sighed. "_Love_ this business."

"And that is why I love it as well."

Swindle's optics fluttered open in utter shock, and he stared at his computer's monitor. A face appeared on a small window, and the face smirked widely at the Decepticon; bright eyes staring unblinkingly at him (his alien friend that he had taught to use his language as a second tongue). The Decepticon grinned from audio sensor to audio sensor.

"Zeljo, buddy! How nice to see you again," he said, taking his pedes from the keyboard. "Looking good, by the way. This that a new blue suit? Looks great on you. The blue matches your orange and whatever type of red you have on your feathers. Looks great!"

The owl-bird alien, Zeljo Ma'le, smirked at him. His face was a perfect circle with two large blue eyes with white pupils stared back at him. His beak was small, but it was perfect for expression emotion. Feathered elongated ears stood erect with a folded down crest sat between both ears, and claw-like hands were folded over his flat chest. However, for such a beautiful alien organic creature, his face had a single large claw that stretched across his cheek just under his eye, marring the exotic pattern across his said face. The feathers had not grown back, and they would never grow back for the scar had been too deep and damaged too much of the flesh. One of his ears was nearly ripped apart, and what was left was not much and it clung to fibers of skin and muscle that had survived. His thick tail that had feathers at the tip were ripped and torn, and the feathers of his crest were also torn. Despite that, he still looked good. He chuckled.

"Well, Swindle, you know that I do love your platitude, but do not bore me with it," Zeljo said, scratching his face.

Swindle smirked. "Well, I cannot seem to help it, Zeljo," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Anyways, is there something you would like to buy from me?"

"No, not today, actually," Zeljo said, waving down his slender hand. "I wish to speak to you."

"Oh?"

"Yes, a business offer, might I say."

"_Oh_," Swindle said, a smile tugging at his lips. "What do you have to offer me, Zeljo?"

Zeljo smiled, running his palm across his knuckles as his thick tail twitched off screen. "Well, as you know, we're business men or should I say, mech for you," Zeljo said. "I was wondering if you would like to become my partner."

Swindle arched an optic ridge to the proposal. It was so off the wall and so sudden; it came from out of the blue. "Is that so?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," Zeljo stated. "As you know, we're both successful at what we do. I suggest that we combine forces. We can get a lot done and get much in profits."

"Well, it does sound good," Swindle said, lacing his digits. "The only issue I have with your plan is that I don't believe Cybertronians want anything organic. After all, the Autobots think that you're kind—organics—are a plague."

Zeljo arched a feathered brow. He then laughed. "Oh, how absurd," he chuckled.

Swindle joined in on the mirth. "I know," he said, shaking his helm as his servo rested against the side of that said helm. "It _is_ absurd."

"Well, I know some that would love to buy your products," Zeljo said, purring slightly. "The people I work with are fascinated by the ones that you have sold me."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yes," Zeljo stated. "Do you happen to have anymore of the weapons I have bought?"

"Ah, no," Swindle said, pulling up a second window on the television screen, and glanced over his inventory. "I just sold them to a bunch of rogue organic aliens. You're out of luck. So very sorry."

Zeljo frowned, ears twitching subtly as he stared at the mechanical alien before him. "Ah, what a shame that is," he said, sighing dramatically and shook his head from side to side. "My men would have loved to have some new weapons. Oh, well, there is always stealing." He arched a brow. "So, have you an answer to my proposal?"

Swindle hummed in his throat, and rubbed his servos together. "I must say, you and I being partners is very tempting, Zeljo, pal," he said matter-of-factly. "We can have a very large empire, you and I. We'll be pulling in millions of credits."

"So, is that a yes?"

The thought of working with such a powerful alien pirate known for creating and distributing large amounts of all sorts of drugs, kidnapping women, men, and children of all walks of alien life and selling them into slavery (either physical, sexual, or both), stealing weapons and selling them—he was a powerful and much feared man. He was the mastermind; the brilliant controller watching over his army like a general would watch his men. Four organic planets are after him; a large sum of money (no matter what the currency each planet—or country on that planet—had) was offered on his head, dead or alive. If he were to become this man's partner, he would have to look out for himself. After all, despite being a genius, he was a slippery man. Swindle stroked his chin, pondering. He could get richer if he was to join him, and if he played the game correctly, he could steal power from him.

Swindle leaned back in his chair, and reached to his right, holding up a cube of liquid Energon. "To our partnership," he said, lifting it up.

Zeljo reached off screen, a glass filled with some liquid substance poised between two fingers, and lifted it up to a toast. "To our partnership," he echoed.

They nodded, and took their respective drinks from their glasses. Swindle relaxed, holding his cube tightly.

"So, partner, I have heard that Megatron has been captured by the Autobots," Zeljo stated, mirroring Swindle's actions.

Swindle sighed deeply and sadly. "Oh, yes, I've heard," he said, staring at the liquid in the cube. "He was such a good customer. So sad that he has been arrested."

"Well, what if he was _not_ in prison?"

Swindle glanced up, arching an optic ridge to Zeljo, who was smirking at the Decepticon. His slender beak glimmered in the lights that bathed his body, and his eyes had a disturbing twinkle in them.

"What are you implying?"

Arching his fingers, the smirk on Zeljo's feathered face grew in size. "Oh, my friend, allow me to describe what I am implying," he said, and then chuckled. "I do believe that you will like it."

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, look guys: I'm bringing back Prowler, and I have a bad guy alien-bird. Oh, yeah. :)<strong>


	9. Proposals

**Whoo, fast update.**

**Oh, and I don't think I mentioned this, but remember when Atomspark mentioned those two chemicals when he refered to the Council? Well, since he is an engineer, some are probably wondering how he knows a chemisty equation. Well, one day long ago, he was dicking around with Ion's chemistry set, mixed those chemicals together, and it exploded. And Ion was not happy about that. x3**

* * *

><p>Proposals<p>

IX

"What are we going to do?"

"Don't ask me, you moron."

"Megatron has been captured, and we're outnumbered."

"We're slagged; they're going to get us."

"Oh, would you shut up, Breakdown."

Strika, the large lumbering titan of a Decepticon femme, stared down at the large group of Decepticons that have not been yet captured by the accursed Autobots. She moved sluggishly, tired of running and hiding, and aching to do something. Her body flexed, digits cracking, and her processor reeled. Not only had the Autobots captured their leader, but her bondmate and high-ranking officals as well. All were left were the underlings, who seemed unsure as to what to do; they needed their leader to guide them.

"Vhere is Megatron and the others being held?" Strika asked to the crowd.

"Trypticon Prison," answered a voice.

They hated running and hiding, it made them feel weak and useless. They were on Charr (a planet far from Cybertron), in a remote building, and sat there in waiting like a black widow sitting in her web, waiting for an innocent fly to zip by and become entangled in the thin creation of finely-tuned perfection. But they didn't want to wait anymore, and they wanted to attack. They wanted to rescue their leader and Strika her bondmate, Lugnut. All agravated, all angry, all ready to kill the Autobot enemy. Cycloneus shifted heatedly in his place, and narrowed his bright red optics.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" he demanded, lifting his servos into the air. "Let's go break them out!"

"We can't just go breaking them out," Oil Slick hissed, staring at the large Decepticon. "We need a plan, or perhaps some more forces." He glanced over the pitiful group of disheveled Decepticons. "Those Autobots did a number on us."

"So, what's the plan?" grumbled a voice amongst the crowd. "Wait here and rust?"

"No," Oil Slick hissed, narrowing his optics into the crowd.

"Then what's your plan?" Cycloneus asked smartly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't have a plan," Oil Slick retorted, frowning at his words, and hung his helm. "I was assuming one of you did. Does anybot have any ideas?"

There were grumbles that washed over the crowd, but nothing evolved from those mumbles of uncertainty and fear. Strika frowned inwardly, staring hard at the Decepticons. "Foolish, we have no plans," she muttered, shifting her heavy pedes on the ground.

"But we do."

Blinking, all turned to the large monitor behind them, and barely twitched at the sight of Swindle's sleazy-smiling face. His purple digits were arched, and they rested on his folded lap.

"I heard the last few sentences of your talks," the arms-dealer stated, twiddling his digits. "Don't have a plan for getting ol' Megatron out of the slammer? Well, my friend and I may be able to help you. For a _price_."

"How nice to see you again as well, Swindle," Oil Slick drawled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Vhat's your plan?" Strika demanded. "And who iz zis friend of yours?"

Another screen flicked next to Swindle's, and showed the feathered alien with the bright blue eyes and the lazy, sneaky smile.

"And that, good sir, would be me," he said, one of his feathered ears twitching subtly.

The Decepticons stared at the strange creature before them. None had ever seen such a creature like this—it has human-likeness to, but completely non-human. It was obviously organic. However, Strika glowered at the alien's usage of "sir" on her. However, she remained ever silent; just staring at them.

"And this would be my partner in crime, Zeljo Ma'le," Swindle said with a perky tone. "He and I have done business for stellar-cycles. Haven't we, Zeljo?"

"Oh, yes, Swindle," the avian-like alien said. "For many moons we have worked."

"I've taught him our language, and he taught me his," Swindle said. "Not only that, success has brought us together as partners. Isn't that right, Zeljo?"

"Oh, yes, Swindle," Zeljo stated, smiling sweetly.

"Oh, enough with you sweet-talking each other," snapped a voice from the Decepticon crowd. "What's this so called 'plan' you two been talking about?"

"Well, of course we'll tell you," Zeljo said, waggling a finger back and forth.

"But we would like our money," Swindle said, a grin peaking at the corners of his mouth. "You understand, of course—business as usual."

Grumbles erupted amongst the crowd. Obviously, none wanted to give up any money to this slippery arms-dealer and his alien partner, who was just as slimy as Swindle himself. None of them had truly trusted the arms-dealer; he would turn on them if the Autobots gave him enough money. This mech honored no faction. Strika narrowed her optics at the windows that showed both of their smiling faces.

"We will talk," she said briskly, and turned off the screen with a flick of a digit.

* * *

><p>Swindle grinned, arching his digits as he stared at Zeljo's image. "So, what do you think they're going to do?" he asked.<p>

"Want our help, of course," he responded, scratching his neck with a sleek claw. "They are desperate."

Swindle chuckled throatily.

"But I have a question."

"Yes?"

"You are a Decepticon," Zeljo said, waving a finger in the air.

"Yes, and?" Swindle drawled, arching an optic ridge to the organic.

"Wouldn't a regular Decepticon just help other Decepticons without a cost?"

Swindle tapped his purple digits together, and a smile tweaked at the corners of his mouth. "Well, Zeljo," he began, crossing his legs and resting his servos on his knees, "life is all a series of business deals, at least, that's what I think. And since money makes the universe move, I want to make sure that I'm rolling in it." He smirked, arching his digits. "Where ever I can get it, I want it. You understand that, right?"

"Ahhh, I see," Zeljo said, tapping his cheek. "So, you don't care where the money is coming from as long as you get it, right?"

"Just like you," Swindle said.

"So, you would deal with the Autobots if necessary?"

He stared at Zeljo for a moment, thinking about the question he had proposed, and then smiled sickeningly sweet at him. "Now, why would I do that?" he asked. "They are the enemy."

Zeljo's torn ear twitched, and he smiled in return. "Ah," he said simply.

It was silent for a moment; both partners drinking each other in. Swindle knew just why Zeljo had asked that. Slippery little slagger. Swindle grinned, narrowing his optics at him, and Zeljo's eyes remained half-lidded, and a lazy smile spread its way across his feathered face.

Strika's face then appeared on the screen next to Zeljo's, and she spoke:

"What iz your plan?"

Swindle and Zeljo exchanged smirking glances.

* * *

><p>Blurr's optics snapped open, and he let out a gasp like a swimmer who had been held under water for too long, and finally got a gulp of fresh air. His engine wheezed, his spark tightened, and his servos gripped the sides of his berth. He was safe. Shockwave was nowhere in sight. Blurr relaxed, engine relaxing, and his spark became calm in its chamber. His bare helm slowly turned to his right, drinking in the machines that were giving him life. He fiddled with one of the many cords attached to his body in a sense of surrealism. He was safe.<p>

There was nobot with him. He was all alone. The room was a bare one; just metal walls with a metal floor and metal ceiling. There was a single window at the left of him gave him a glorious view of his home city. He smiled softly, and then looked at his body. It was obviously new—a once fresh protoform was now his body. He had no idea what his old body looked like, and he was curious as to what it looked like, no matter how disgusting it looked. His plain body he would have to be reformed and reformated to get it to what it used to look like. Blurr sighed, pushing his head back and relaxed. He could feel the energy pump into him, and soon he would return to his job—the job he loved.

A door opened, and Ratchet came in with a push-along cart. Blurr turned to meet the older mech's optics, and the nurse gave a faint smile as he approached the Intelligence Agent. He parked the cart, and Blurr noticed a bowl of semi-liquid pink Energon, a cup of liquid Energon and oil on the side, and some other clean-burning food.

"Hey, kid," Ratchet said, clasping his servo on Blurr's bare shoulder. "Nice to see you up and active."

Blurr blinked his optics, and sighed. "S-sir, what . . . time is it?" he asked once he found his voice.

"Um, a little after eleven A.M.," Ratchet answered.

Eleven? Blurr was so used to getting up _before_ six, so, of course, this was a major surprise to him, sleeping in so late and not being at his job. Blurr's servos touched each other, rubbing his digits soothingly across one another.

"Hungry?"

Blurr turned back to Ratchet, who nodded towards the food on his cart.

"Yes, please, sir," Blurr answered with a smile.

"Eeeh, don't start that 'sir' slag, I'm just Ratchet to you, kid," the old mech said.

Blurr chuckled softly. "Okay, R-Ratchet it is," he said, a confident smile stretched across his lips, broadening his smile.

Ratchet nodded his helm, and reached across, placing his servos on both of Blurr's shoulders. "Can ya move, kid?" he asked, cocking a brow.

"Um, I think," Blurr responded, shifting his body so he would be in a sitting position. Blurr heaved as he hunched over, resting his arms on his skinny legs. Ratchet held his servos to Blurr's body, steadying him to keep his balance.

"Ya okay, kid?" Ratchet asked.

"Yes, y-yes," Blurr said, fighting the urge to lay back down. He didn't want to appear too weak. He lifted his helm, and turned to stare at the food. His body ached to eat. He reached across with shaky servos, but he grew tired once more, and collapsed onto the berth. He groaned deeply.

"Hey, just stay there, Blurr, relax," Ratchet said, patting the agent's arm comfortingly.

Blurr stared at the mech nurse, and a frown creased his metal lips. The old mech grabbed the bowl, taking a spoon, and stirred the thick meal gently. Ratchet turned to the agent, arching an optic ridge to him.

"Okay," Ratchet said, taking the spoon, filled with food, and offered it to Blurr.

And of course to Blurr, this made him feel so weak. Ratchet was going to feed him as if he were completely unable to feed himself. And one thing that Blurr hated most of all was being weak. All his life, he wanted to show everybot that he was strong, and being reduced to this was a wild sting to his masculinity. He frowned, stubbornly turning his helm away, and grunted:

"I—I'll do it m-myself."

"Naw," Ratchet said firmly. "You save your strength. What? You feel weak?"

Blurr narrowed his optics, and huffed. Ratchet rolled his optics, and shook his helm.

"Listen, kid, it's just me," Ratchet said, bobbing his helm. "I'm not going to make fun of you, and nobot else will know. Okay?"

Blurr looked to the old mech nurse, and nodding his helm slowly in acknowledgement. And so it went: Ratchet spoon-feeding the tired agent in silence. It was silent until Blurr ached to ask a question. That said question was burning at his spark for a while, and if he did not ask it soon, he felt as if he was going to explode.

"R-Ratchet?"

The old mech hummed in response as he scraped the metal spoon across the bowl to pick up any stray amount of food.

"Who saved me?"

Ratchet turned to stare at Blurr, who looked back with an anxious face. The old mech cleared his throat, and tapped his digits on the bowl. "Well, do you know who Ion and her group are?" he asked, offering the spoon to Blurr.

"Yes," Blurr answered, taking the food from the spoon, and slowly chewed on it.

"Well, they, Sari, Cliffjumper, and Bumblebee found you," Ratchet said.

"W-where was I?"

Ratchet frowned, not sure if Blurr was ready to hear where he was. "I'm not sure if you're ready to hear," he muttered.

Blurr swallowed the food, and stared out distantly. "Sari," he breathed. "I-I heard her voice. She was t-talking to me—telling me t-that I was going to be just fine and such." He paused, blinking slowly. "Where is Sari?"

"Recharging, possibly," Ratchet said, shrugging. "She and the others are in our room."

"I want to t-thank them."

"Of course."

"And get them something. W-what do they like?"

Ratchet chuckled softly, not only by his remark, but by realizing that his speech was gaining speed; and clasped a servo on Blurr's slender shoulder. "Hey, the thing ya can do for them is get better," he said. "I think that will be enough for them."

Blurr blinked, staring at the mech, and a tiny smile tweaked at his lip components.

* * *

><p>Peacemaker was always the first one to get up, and the last one to go into recharge.<p>

It was routine for him, as everything was in his life. To him, not having a routine would be maddening. And of course, Peacemaker sat at the breakfast table, spoon digging into his food and slowly ate. Ion and the others would soon stumble from their berths and grope for hot Energon coffee, which Peacemaker had percolating on the counter beside him. There was a groan, the shuffling of pedes on the floor, and Peacemaker glanced up from his bowl of food, noticing a half-alive Atomspark. As routine has stated, Peacemaker never spoke to Atomspark in the morning. He did not wish to have a death wish and that was for sure. He was as scary as a Decepticon in the morning. The other mech growled and rumbled to himself as he pawed at the doors of the cupboards much like a dog would pound on a door when he wanted to go outside.

"Stupid fragging thing won't open . . ."

Peacemaker avoided optic-contact, and continued to eat his breakfast. Atomspark grabbed a mug (swearing to himself all the way), filled it with hot Energon coffee (after pounding on the little machine to spit out his coffee), and gently sipped at it (ignoring that the hot liquid was burning at his glossa). He leaned against the counter, cupping his mug close to his mouth, licking his lips and collecting each drop of coffee. There was silence. Atomspark let out a sigh, allowing the coffee to warm and awaken his tired systems.

"I love you, coffee," Atomspark murmured, rubbing his servos across the side of the mug. "You make me into a nice 'bot . . ."

Peacemaker glanced up from his breakfast, and then resumed eating.

"And thanks for making it," Atomspark said to the small orange and tan mech.

"I-it is merely routine," Peacemaker said, smiling before taking another bite of his food.

Atomspark rolled his optics, and took another long drink of his coffee, feeling the grouchiness melt away like ice on a summer's day. He hummed deeply in his throat, inhaling the scent of the drink.

"Feel better?" Peacemaker asked, dropping his spoon into the bowl.

"Yeppers," Atomspark said, nuzzling his mug lovingly.

Peacemaker watched his friend, smiled innocently, collected his bowl and spoon, and placed them into the sink. He clasped his servos together, and turned to Atomspark. "So, when do we go to Earth?" he asked perkily.

Atomspark let out a sigh. "Ion said that the Ministry will contact us sometime today," he responded, taking another sip of his drink.

"O-oh," Peacemaker said, rubbing the back of his helm. He tapped his digits together sheepishly, and brushed his pede on the floor. The small mech then perked up. "B-but I can't wait t-to go to Earth. I can't wait t-to learn about their cultures."

"Yep."

"I w-wonder what they're like. I wonder i-if they have similar cultural attributes l-like ours."

"Yep."

"If they do, then t-that would be wonderful! Think about it for a moment: if w-we are similar to them, t-then we should get to k-know them better and n-not fear them."

"Peace, Peace, buddy," Atomspark said, waving down a servo. "Too early in the morning for you ranting."

Peacemaker bit his lower lip, and tapped his digits together. "Right, s-sorry," he said, looking down to the floor.

Atomspark shook his helm, and patted Peacemaker on his shoulder. "Eh, don'tcha worry about it," he said, taking a seat at the table. "You can't help it."

Peacemaker looked down to his pedes, and played with his digits. He hummed in his throat, and looked away and out the window. He did not respond. They were silent as Atomspark gulped down his coffee, and both of them did not speak to each other. Atomspark then shifted, turning to stare at Peacemaker.

"How do you feel?"

Peacemaker blinked, staring at Atomspark. "Oh, I f-feel fine," he said, scratching his chin. "You?"

"Well, the coffee's doin' it's job," he said, grinning. "Hey, you know that Bumblebee?"

"Um, who?"

"The yellow 'bot with Optimus."

"O-oh, yes. Why?"

"He's cute, isn't he?" Atomspark said, quirking an optic ridge to Peacemaker.

Peacemaker blinked, staring at the other mech. "Are y-you proposing to 'pick him up'?" he asked, still unsure if he was just referring to this Bumblebee as just cute or wanting to approach him to do other things.

"Well, yes."

"Atomspark."

"Yes?"

"It's too ear-early in the m-morning for this."

Atomspark frowned sternly, sipping dejectedly from his mug as Peacemaker chuckled softly. There was then a beeping sound that rang through the kitchen and caused the two to glance up to a monitor a few feet from them. Atomspark and Peacemaker exchanged glances, and both approached the monitor, Atomspark tapping at the button. Alpha Trion's face popped onto the screen, stern and expressionless as always with just as blank Perceptor next to him.

"Sirs!" Atomspark said, snapping his servo up, accidently dropping his mug and spilling his prized drink. He stared at the dark pink liquid for a moment, and a few klicks later, his processor finally clicked, and he screamed. "No! Not the coffee! Slag! Slag! _Slag_!"

Peacemaker jumped, and then gave a nervous smile to the two important mechs on the screen (Alpha Trion was leaning in to try to figure out what was wrong with Atomspark, and the Preceptor did not seem to care). "Hello, sirs," he said, turning away to stare at his pedes out of habit.

Alpha Trion blinked, and a ghost of a smile stretched his mouth. "Hello, Atomspark and Peacemaker," he said, nodding his head.

Atomspark shuffled around on the floor, picking up his mug and muttering angrily off screen or sometimes letting out a stangled whimper as if he was in pain or something. Peacemaker twitched, gripping his digits with his own digits. "D-do you need something, sirs?" he inquired.

"Yes, we come to inform you upon your exploration on Earth," Alpha Trion informed.

Peacemaker grinned widely, grasping his servos tightly.

Atomspark perked his helm up, bright blue optics glowing. "Really?" he asked, optic ridges skyward. "How long?"

"We wish for you two and the others to come to the Council and speak," Perceptor said, dully as always.

"Optimus Prime and his group will come as well," Alpha Trion added.

"When should we come?" Atomspark said, tapping his digit on the empty metal mug.

"In a megacycle," answered the red Autobot. "We will see you then."

The screen flickered off. Peacemaker and Atomspark exchanged looks, and the taller mech's mouth twitched in a smile.

"Well, time to wake up the others," Atomspark said.

"R-right."


	10. Mirage

**LOL. I just noticed that Microsoft Word was auto-correcting Perceptor's name to be _Pre_ceptor. I had to go back and fix some chapters because of that. LOL, Microsoft. LOL.**

**Drew Zeljo: http : / / artistdragon . deviantart . com / art / SOTE - Business - Man - to - You -301328792?q = gallery % 3 Aartistdragon % 2F62185&qo = 1**

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><p>Mirage<p>

X

Optimus had been awake for a few kliks now. How many? He was not sure. He sat on his berth, staring down at his palms, and a frown was etched across his face. It was strange without Prowl's silent, yet wise presence with them. Optimus rubbed a servo across his chin, feeling a sense of emptiness in his spark. He did indeed miss his dear friend. He glanced to the window, noticing that Arcee had fallen asleep leaning against it. He did not wish to awaken her. Ratchet was also not here—probably with Blurr, it made only logical sense. Optimus frowned, and his engine let out a groan.

_Beep-beep._

Snapping his head up, he noticed that the video-pad in the room was flashing. Being silent, he crept across the room, and approached it. He pressed the button under the small, square screen, and two faces appeared—Alpha Trion and Perceptor.

"Sirs," Optimus said in a whisper.

"Good morning, Optimus Prime," Alpha Trion stated calmly.

"Good morning, sir."

"How was your stasis?"

"Well, thank you, sir."

"Where is your crew?" the old mech asked.

"Still in their stasis," Optimus answered softly.

"Oh," Alpha Trion said, "well, when they awaken, we wish to meet you and your crew in a megacycle."

"Um, sir, might I say something?" Optimus quickly interjected.

"Yes, go ahead," Alpha Trion said, nodding his helm slowly.

"Um, my organic friend, Sari, she needs to return to Earth for a brief period."

"Oh? Why so?"

"Well, our fuel cannot feed her," Optimus quickly explained. "It could make her sick or kill her. She needs to return to her home to fuel up."

An expression of understanding spread its way across the old mech's face. "Ah, that makes sense," he said around a chuckle. "She is organic, she cannot eat our fuel." He chuckled some more. It was a low, homey chuckle that only somebot or somebody wise could utter. "Of course, will it take long?"

"With Omega Supreme and the Space Bridges? No, not long," Optimus said with a smile. "So, a megacycle, sir?"

"Yes, that would be correct."

"Okay, yes, thank you, sirs. We won't take too long."

"I believe you, Optimus Prime. Come to the Council's room. We will speak with you then."

"Yes, sirs."

The screen flickered off, and Optimus turned to his sleeping crew. He let out a sigh, and rubbed his servos together. The day's barely started and it's already begun. He clapped his servos loudly, and called in a loud voice.

"Okay, everyone and everybot," he boomed. "Time to get up."

Bumblebee stirred, and Sari, who twitched on the yellow Autobot's rounded chest, slowly opened her eyes to stare at the Prime standing proud and tall in the room. "What time is it," she said, sitting up, and rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands.

"Eleven," Prime answered with a tiny smile. "We slept in."

Bumblebee groaned, optics opening as he stared at Optimus. "Ugh, I don't wanna," he said, servo falling in front of his face.

Sari chuckled, pressing her little hands to his chin. "C'mon, time to wake up," she said, a little grin on her slender face.

He smirked, his golden digit prodding at his friend's head. "Alright, alright," he said, his engine yawning as he spoke.

Bulkhead groaned, turning onto his side as his optics slowly opened. "What time is it?" he asked, groaning loudly as his processor began to slowly turn on.

"Eleven," Sari answered, sliding down from Bumblebee's stomach, and he sat up.

Bulkhead yawned deeply, and slowly sat up. His servo rubbed his neck as his legs dangled from the side of the berth. Bumblebee pulled his legs to his chest, resting his chin on his kneecaps, and his optics darted around the room. It seemed that he was looking for Prowl, only to frown, and hang his head. Sari frowned with him. It was empty without Prowl. Optimus approached the window, nudging her shoulders gently with his gentle servos.

"Arcee, Arcee," Optimus said softly.

She shifted in her ridged seat, letting out a soft sigh in her deep stasis. Optimus shook her again, and this time, her optics slowly opened. She looked at him, and smiled at him. "Good morning," she said, flexing her nimble digits and her engine let out a yawn.

"Good morning," Optimus said with a smile.

Acree glanced around, taking in the sight of the room and those in it, and slowly blinked her optics. "Where is Ratchet?" she asked, looking up at the Prime.

"Still with Blurr, I presume," Optimus answered.

He took a step back to allow Arcee to stand from her seat. She stood up, stretching her legs and shifting her back, a small cracking sound coming from her plating.

"So, what are we doing, Boss-bot?" Bumblebee inquired, placing Sari onto his shoulder.

Optimus arched an optic ridge to the small yellow Autobot, and a smile tweaked at his slender lips. "We have a date with the Council in one megacycle," he said. "But first, we need to go to Earth. I suppose Sari would be hungry."

Sari grinned, and nodded her head. "Yep," she said, patting her stomach as if to emphasis the point.

Optimus chuckled.

* * *

><p>Cliffjumper felt like a prisoner.<p>

In fact, technically, he _was_ a prisoner. And it disgusted him greatly. Ever since as long as he could remember, he knew that prisoners (and Decepticons, of course) were the scum of Cybertron, and he hated them more than anything else. That was why he wanted to be an agent to hunt them down. Of course, his anger would not allow him to be one (Solarburn had worried that his temper would jeopardize all he knew if he were to be allowed to be a secret agent). It made him mad, but he knew that the good doctor was right. However, he became a data-collector—and a slagging good one at that! Digits tapped at the metal table beneath him all in agitation and anger. He felt disgusting. He was innocent. He never meant to hurt Blurr.

Cliffjumper hung his helm. All this time he was serving under a Decepticon. _A slagging Decepticon. _All those stellar-cycles ago, he arrested the wrong 'bot. That slagger framed Wasp, and Shockwave rose through the ranks, becoming the most-liked Autobot around. Longarm was kind, caring, generous—the type of 'bot you wanted around when you needed help. And to find out that it was all a façade, it sickened him. Ever since others on Cybertron found out about this, they looked at him differently—like he was part of the whole thing. He could hear their (policebots') whispers:

"_Do you think he was part of this?"_

"_Cliffjumper? Naw. I read that he _hates_ Decepticons. For Primus' sake, he doesn't even like Neutrals."_

"_But Shockwave was such a good actor when he took on the 'Longarm Prime' persona. Don'tcha think he could do the same?"_

"_Well, now you mention it . . ."_

It made him sick inside. He was a good _Autobot_. Cliffjumper could not and would not be anything else but that. _An Autobot._ He was a proud Autobot, always on the edge when it came to finding Decepticons and tossing them into prison and throwing away the key. He loved it. And for others to accuse him of being what he hated most—it infuriated him.

His servos coiled into fists, and his dentals gritted. He wanted a can of oil. And a long stasis. It was too fragging early to start this frag.

His helm snapped upward as the two metal doors opened. And there was that 'bot he hated just about as much as he hated Decepticons—_Mirage_. His body was very sleek with broad shoulders and thin legs—his metal hide practically glowed in the light of the room. It was a godly glow that could only be produced by numerous megacycles of waxing. A large arrow-shaped obstruction fitted the front of his chest and stomach. Sharp blue optics flickered to stare at the little red Autobot, and a sly smile creased his grey lips.

"Hello, Cliffjumper," he said smoothly, his servos gripping a data-pad and a stylus.

Cliffjumper's frown creased firmly, his right optic twitched, and his fists shook. "Get out," he grumbled.

Mirage sighed, shifting his hips to the side as he tapped his stylus to his chin. "Oh, Cliffjumper, Cliffjumper, let's not get into a fight," he said slowly, waving a digit in the air. "I'm here to help you, believe it or not."

The red Autobot twitched more violently this time, and without a word, he stood up from his chair, and slammed his fists against the thick-plated glass (the type of glass that one could see out but not in) that was situated in the wall to the right of him.

"_Get him out_," he snarled. "I know you can hear me!" He pounded his fists onto the glass more. "Don't ignore me! I _hate_ this slagger!"

Mirage sighed again, and took his seat at the table. "For Primus' sake, Cliffjumper," he called, his highly-cultured voice smooth as purified Energon, "come and take a seat. I just want to ask you a few questions."

Cliffjumper snapped his head around to glare at the blue Autobot. "I don't wanna talk to you about this," he hissed through gritted dentals. "Send in somebot else!"

"You don't have much of a choice upon the matter."

"You asked 'em to allow you to interrogate me, right?"

"Does that really matter?"

"Yes," Cliffjumper seethed. "It does. I don't wanna to talk to you."

"Well, I'm sorry, but you must," Mirage said, voice calm. He crossed his legs, and leaned back in the chair, growing comfortable. "Come, sit." He tapped at the table's smooth surface. "Now, let's try to talk like civilized mechs without your servos locking around my neck."

Cliffjumper stared at the white and blue mech that sat perfectly in the chair with a calm smile on his face as he twiddled his stylus between pure white digits. The red Autobot's servos dropped to his sides, grunted, shuffled over to the chair, and plopped down in it. He frowned, lancing his digits in his lap as he stared blankly at Mirage.

"Thank you."

The red Autobot rolled his optics as he drummed his digits together. Mirage tapped at his data-pad, probably pulling up some documents or Primus-knows what on that blasted thing.

"How is Blurr?" Cliffjumper demanded.

Mirage glanced up, staring at the red Autobot. "Last I heard, he was online and resting," he answered, returning to read his data-pad.

Cliffjumper visibly relaxed. That was better than being offline.

"It says here that you've been working under Longarm for a few centuries," Mirage said, arching an optic ridge. He already knew that, but he felt it wise to state it aloud.

"Yeah."

"It also says that you went to a mech called Solarburn for your oilholism and temper," Mirage said coolly. "Longarm—or should I say Shockwave—suggested, before you went to work under him, that you should seek help."

Cliffjumper's upper lip twitched. "Where are you gettin' at?" he snarled, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Mirage blinked, staring at the red Autobot. Solarburn, so the records said, was a good psychologist. Apparently he had helped Cliffjumper, but the poor 'bot hadn't changed much. Well, other than him not drinking large quantities of oil and sending himself into a stupor, and for him not throwing punches at random strangers in a fit of rage and breaking Primus-knows-what, Solarburn had done well to fix him up. Behave like a "normal" 'bot, per say. "Did you like Longarm?" Mirage asked, avoiding the first question altogether.

"Yeah, I respected him," Cliffjumper said, hissing. "I thought he was a good mech!"

"So, you had no idea that he was a Decepticon?"

"No," Cliffjumper snapped, leaning against his chair. "I respected the slag outta 'im." He turned his helm away from Mirage's optics. "I thought he was the type of 'bot that I—that . . ." He paused. "I respected 'im so much." Cliffjumper hung his helm.

Mirage recalled the times that he had met Longarm (when he was not harassing Cliffjumper), and he liked the 'bot. He thought that he was a good mech. It stunned him too that he was a Decepticon.

"Think back," Mirage said. "Did he do anything that would be suspicious?"

Cliffjumper hummed in his throat, and drummed his digits on his lap. "He changed his passwords a lot," he said, glancing up at the ceiling in thought.

Mirage scribbled on his data-pad. "How many times would he change his passwords?" he inquired.

"Um, _a lot_," Cliffjumper said, throwing a servo dismissively in the air. "I dunno. All I know is that he was always asking me to change this password, or that password. 'Oh, Cliffjumper, I have a new password for you even though I changed it just yesterday!'" He scoffed, shaking his helm. "I always thought that he was more paranoid than me. I didn't think much of it."

"So, this was a constant thing?"

"Pretty much."

"Why did you think he did that?"

"I dunno. He was Head of the Intelligence Agency. I thought he did that he did that for protection reasons."

Mirage hummed in his throat, stylus tapping against the data-pad. Cliffjumper was silent, looking over the blue and white Autobot before him. He was surprised that the Tower-brat wasn't harassing him yet (he liked to do that to poor Cliffjumper). He was surprisingly professional—cool, calm, and collected. Mirage blinked, leaning forward as his data-pad slipped downward onto his lap.

"I suppose you knew him well," he stated.

"Hmmfp, I thought I did," he grumbled, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

"Did he do things in a set pattern?"

"Yeah. I could read him like the back of my servo."

"What would he do?"

"He would come in, check in, say hello to me," Cliffjumper said, recalling all the steps that the average solar-cycle was with Longarm, "we'd chat, I'd tell him his daily schedule, and he'd go in his office and work. That was it."

"So, he didn't deviate from that pattern?"

"Not really," Cliffjumper said, licking his dentals. "If he did, it was weird. But, I overlooked it." He shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't think much of it. I liked the 'bot."

Mirage looked him over, and nodded his helm. "What were Blurr's feelings towards Longarm?" he asked, shifting his weight on the chair he was perched on.

"Blurr?" he asked, arching an optic ridge. "He worshiped the ground Longarm walked on." Cliffjumper scoffed. "Could've sworn that he loved Longarm by the way he would talk about 'im. Blah, blah, blah, blah—he would always talk about 'im."

"Did he hold romantic interests for Longarm?" Mirage asked, arching both of his optic ridges. If he did, what Shockwave did would be made all the worse—a lover doing that to another lover? Sickening.

"Pfft, like I would know," Cliffjumper said, throwing his servos into the air. "I wasn't interested in Speeder's personal life. I never asked."

Mirage blinked, frowning as his digits brushed against his chin and lips. "How do you feel about Blurr?" he popped the question.

Cliffjumper froze, optics narrowing directly at Mirage. He was silent. The red Autobot knew what he was doing—a classic interrogating skill: entrapment. Even if Cliffjumper really was telling the truth that he had no idea that Longarm was a Decepticon, another possibility was that he knew that the cube was Blurr, and threw him away with that knowledge. Cliffjumper restrained his anger, and in response to that, he released a grunt.

"He was a good 'bot."

"Really? _You_ thought that."

"Yes, he was a good 'bot. He did his job well and had an optimistic look on life." Cliffjumper's optic ridges furrowed. "He was a good 'bot."

"Did you ever think that he was annoying in any way, shape, or form?"

Cliffjumper twitched in anger, gritted his dentals sharply, and in a fluid motion, he stood up from his chair and smashed his servos onto the table roughly. His chair fell backwards, landing with a loud crackle. Mirage barely moved—nothing new from Cliffjumper. It was embarrassing how used he was to Cliffjumper's violent antics.

"Look, I know what yer doin'," he snarled, pointing an accusing digit at Mirage's faceplates. "I had no idea that the cube was Blurr. I had no idea that fraggin' Longarm Prime was a slaggin' Decepticon! I had no fraggin' idea! _I am innocent!_" He paused, engine wheezing, chassis trembling. "I never knew this. And neither did all of _you_. I am _innocent_ just as much as all of you." Cliffjumper's digits curled into a fist, and an uncharacteristic begging expression appeared on his face. "You have to believe me."

Mirage was silent, drinking in Cliffjumper's current state with quite surprise. From behind the thick-plated glass, Autobots were preparing to enter the room to forcibly hold Cliffjumper down and contain him.

"_Mirage_," a voice, Cheetor, said through his comm-link, "_do you want us in there with you?_"

Mirage did not verbally respond, but he held up his servo, and waved it down in a dismissive manner in the direction of the thick-plated glass. Cliffjumper twitched, staring at the blue and white Autobot with curious and suspicious-gorged optics. Mirage closed his bright blue optics, and nodded his helm slowly. He then leaned in, optics now open, and he spoke in a slow, low voice:

"I believe you."

Cliffjumper twitched, shock flooding his systems. "Eh, what?" he said, leaning closer to Mirage.

Mirage smirked at the red Autobot's stunned expression. "Did I just blow your processor, Cliffy?" he taunted, chuckling deeply as Cliffjumper growled at the nickname. "Listen, no matter how much you distrust me and hate me, I know you well. You wouldn't abandon the Autobots."

Cliffjumper stood there for a moment, just staring at Mirage, who pulled back and reclined regally in his chair.

"Right your chair and take a seat," he said, lifting his servo in the air.

Cliffjumper seemed to be stunned, but he did what the Autobot asked of him. He sat down, body erect, and servos in his lap. Mirage tapped at his data-pad with a stylus a few times, and then he slipped the small pen into a slot in the data-pad. The blue and white Autobot stood up, discreetly pushing in his chair, and glanced down at Cliffjumper, who was regarding him with a mystified and leery gaze.

"Would you like something to drink?"

Oil was the first thing that came to mind, but he knew that he would be denied that. "No," Cliffjumper responded.

"Okay," he said. The Autobot paused at the door. "You do realize that you will have to testify in court, right?"

"Yeah," he grumbled.

"Okay, then," Mirage said, pressing at the sensitive pad key to open up the double-doors. "I'll see you in court."

Cliffjumper bobbed his helm, still looking at him with distrust. Yet, something in his sky-blue optics held a hint of hope and thinly-lain trust in them. Mirage bobbed his helm, and left the room as the doors closed and locked tightly behind him. Cheetor, a skinny, sleek Autobot bearing a similar model as Blurr, rested against the wall, arms crossed, and a frown on his features. He was a bright sunny-gold with black spots that dotted along his slender frame, and a hint of bright green was splashed along his abdomen.

"Hey, you okay, Mirage?" he asked, waving a servo towards the elegant Autobot.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Mirage answered, rubbing his stiff neck. "Cliffjumper is speaking the truth."

"Are you sure?" Cheetor said, lips curling upward.

"Yes."

"He still has to go to court."

"Oh, I completely understand that," Mirage said, offering the data-pad to the golden Autobot, who took it from Mirage's grasp. "But I know he is innocent."

Cheetor looked at the data-pad in his grasp, and arched an optic ridge. "If you're certain . . ." he began.

"I am very certain," Mirage stated, placing a servo to his chest. "If there's anything that Cliffjumper loves more than his greasy oil, it's the Autobots." He blinked slowly, surprised that he was talking well of Cliffjumper. Normally, he did not do such a thing. "I highly doubt that he would abandon us. After all, he was not the only 'bot that's been tricked by Long—Shockwave, we _all_ have been tricked by him and his dangerous and spark-stabbing lies."

Mirage frowned at the thought. He had met Longarm a few times prior, and what he had thought of the mech was simple—he liked him. He had a positive, honest opinion of "Longarm Prime." Part of him still liked the façade, and that part of him wished that this wasn't happening. But life wasn't very fair, was it? He glanced up to the clock on the wall, and hummed lightly.

"I have a meeting to make," Mirage stated bluntly. "So, forgive me, but I must depart."

Cheetor blinked, and nodded his helm. "Yeah, okay, see you then, Mirage," he said, shifting on his pedes.

"Very soon, my friend," Mirage stated, a brimming smile on his face as he walked away from the policebot.

The noblemech walked in a quickened pace. He didn't want to be late, for being late was shameful, or so he thought. After all, he had a date with incapacitated and basically half-dead Ultra Magnus and the berth-ridden Blurr. The Council wanted updates upon their situations, of course.

* * *

><p><strong>Mirage has a TFA model. Look it up on Transformers Wiki. He looks <em>good<em>. Hrrrrrgh.**

**So sorry, the sound that came from my mouth wasn't human.**


	11. Fuel

**Hey, remember me? Sorry it's been so long. Been busy; graduation and all. :)**

* * *

><p>Fuel<p>

XI

Blurr had fallen into stasis.

That was for the best, Ratchet had thought as he cleaned up his work station. He glanced up at the clock, noticing that it was past noon. The machines that were attached to the agent made subtle beeping sounds and one of the monitors showed a constant moving line across the screen displaying his spark-beat. Ratchet did some minor-checks—body temperature, processor scans, Energon refueling levels, and whatnot. Just standard medical checks. The old mech glanced at the blue agent, a placid look on his face as he patted Blurr's wrist comfortingly.

"Rest up, kid," he stated, reaching up to run his digits across some tubing, ensuring that they were secure.

The double doors opened up, and Red Alert came in with a data-pad in her servos. Ratchet glanced up, arching an optic ridge to her.

"Hello, Red Alert," he said, turning back to his patient.

"Hello, Ratchet," she answered. The medical femme paused at the end of the berth. "You're here early."

"I stayed the night," he stated.

The femme blinked, staring at the old mech with a surprised expression. "You stayed over—in this room with Blurr?" she inquired, arching an optic ridge to him.

"Yep," Ratchet stated, taking a final glance at the agent.

Red Alert stared at him, surprise melting off of her face and it replaced one with complete solace. For what appeared to be a grumpy mech, he was not only an efficient medic, but he was a gentle spark. The femme glanced at her data-pad, tapping at the screen as she read the text.

"How is he?" she asked.

"Fine," Ratchet stated. "He ate, his Energon levels are going up, body temperature is stable, and his processor is stabling."

"That's good," she said. "Can he move?"

"Not very well," Ratchet replied. "I had to feed him. He tried to move, but he was unable to."

"Okay," she said. "Anything else?"

"His speech is slow and he still stammers," Ratchet stated, patting Blurr's wrist again. "But it's better than before. He's getting back to his ol' self."

"That's good to hear," Red Alert stated with a smile. She walked over to the machines that surrounded Blurr, recording the readings onto her data-pad. "The Council is glad that he is safe. I believe that they will send somebot to check up on him."

"When?"

"I am unsure."

"Hmmm," Ratchet hummed in his throat, staring at the agent.

Both were silent for a while—the only sounds were in the room were the slow beeping sound of the machines. Ratchet rubbed at his scarred wrist as Red Alert continued to do what she was originally doing.

"Where is Blurr's original body?"

Red Alert turned to stare at him. "Um, in storage," she said. "We're going to melt it down for scrap for new protoforms."

Ratchet frowned. "Uh, perhaps you can hold that off for a moment," he said, waving a servo in the air.

"Why?"

"Well, maybe Blurr should make th' choice. After all, it _is_ his old body."

Red Alert blinked, and she paused, the statement rolling in her head, allowing it to sink in. She turned back to him. "You're right. Are you sure that he will want to see it, though?" she inquired.

"It depends on him," he said. "We should let him choose."

Red Alert nodded her helm. "You're right," she said again. "I'll make sure to get his body. His _old_ body."

Ratchet gave a simple, single nod. "Right, good," he said.

There was a knocking sound on the only doors in the medical room, and the femme medic turned her helm up to look at the double metal doors. "Come in," she called, her bright blue optics turning upwards towards the doors.

The sliding doors opened, revealing a sleek Autobot. Ego seemed to radiate from this guy, or so Ratchet thought. His model, his looks, his perfect posture—he stunk of bloated rich-bot ego. He walked forward, optics alert, and his face blank.

"Hello, Red Alert," he said, nodding his head towards her. The blue and white Autobot turned to look at the old mech, and smiled. "And you must be Ratchet, right?"

"Yeah, who are you?" the mech inquired, arching a skeptical optic ridge to this 'bot before him.

"I am Mirage," he said, walking to the side of Blurr's berth. "I was assigned by the Council to check up on Blurr and Ultra Magnus." Mirage turned to the two medical professionals in the room. "How is he, doctors?"

"Better," Red Alert said. "See?"

She handed the data-pad to the slender mech, who took it into his servos to read up on the newly written information. "This is good," he said with a smile as he handed it back to the femme. "How long will it take him to recover?"

"A few solar-cycles," Ratchet answered quickly and roughly.

Mirage looked at the older mech, arching an optic ridge to him, and then smiled. It was not a snotty or rude smile, but just a nice, calm smile. "That is good," he said, bowing his helm. "The Council will enjoy that bit of news."

Ratchet glanced him up and down, and huffed deeply. "Well, good," he muttered. "This kid took a lot of slag to get his job done."

"Of course," Mirage stated, placing a servo to his chest. "They will be informed upon the complete matter. I presume that he will be honored greatly."

"He aughta," Ratchet sneered around near-closed lips.

"And so will you and your crew."

"What?"

Mirage blinked, staring directly at the old mech. "Oh, I shouldn't have said that," he said, pulling back, placing a servo to his mouth. He turned his optics to Ratchet, and then grinned widely. Mirage bent forward, and brought his voice down a few notches. "Allow us to keep that between us, okay?" He winked at the old Autobot. "It was a surprise."

Ratchet stared at the noblemech, narrowing his optics at him. He did not say anything, just looking at him. Mirage only smiled softly and lazily, his optics half-open, and his servos were behind his back. He turned to the medical femme, and straightened his body.

"Red Alert, may you take me to Ultra Magnus," he asked calmly.

"Sure, of course," Red Alert said, placing a servo to his arm. She turned to Ratchet, and smiled. "Thank you for taking care of Blurr," she stated. "I will send for First Aid to care for him. You may leave, if you wish."

"Eh, alright," Ratchet said, still staring at Mirage, unsure of what to think of this regal-looking mech. "Thank you, Red Alert. Thanks, Mirage."

Red Alert nodded her helm, Mirage only smiled, and the femme led the near-perfect looking mech out of Blurr's medical room. He listened to the sounds of their pedes clopping on the floor below as they moved to Ultra Magnus' room, and they were chatting silently to each other. Ratchet blinked slowly, and then frowned. He let out a throatily sound, and turned back to Blurr, who was still in stasis. Ratchet patted the young mech's wrist.

"Hang on, kid," he muttered softly.

"_Ratchet? Ratchet?_"

The old mechi twitched, and placed a digit to the side of his helm. "Optimus?" he asked.

"_Good morning_," Optimus said, a chuckle in his voice. "_How did you sleep?_"

Ratchet snorted, a smile daring to make its way on his face. "Fine," he said.

"_Acree's curious as to where you are._"

"Thought so," Ratchet stated. "Why don't you just tell her that I'm still at the infirmary."

"_I did—I thought you were._" There was a pause. "_We have to return to Earth._"

"Huh? For what?"

"_Sari._"

Realization struck him hard. "Of course," Ratchet said with a small smile. Slag, he loved that little girl.

"_We also have a date with the Council._"

Ratchet blinked his optics. He then let out a deep sigh. "They want to talk to us?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"_Yep. We have a megacycle before the briefing starts_," Optimus stated. "_We'll meet you at the docking port of Omega Supreme. I'll see you there._"

"You got it, Optimus," Ratchet said. "I'll be there right away."

"_See you there._"

Optimus, on the other line, hung up. Ratchet's servo dropped to his side, and approached the doors, which opened, and peered down the hallway. First Aid was not here yet. He grunted, and crossed his arms over his chest. He would wait for a little longer, and if the little Autobot did not show up, he would have to either find Red Alert or just stay until the midget slagger appeared. Ratchet shifted his weight, and glanced down the hallway. It was a few cycles until First Aid showed up. He ran down the hallway, then slowed his pace as he reached the room.

"Hello, sir, sorry that I am late," the small Autobot said as he held his data-pad under his arm.

"Eh, that's okay, kid," Ratchet said, stepping out of the room as First Aid entered.

The doors closed behind the old mech, and Ratchet turned to where Mirage went down. He walked down the hallway, and paused where Ultra Magnus was resting. He stared at the door for a moment, and then pressed the side of his helm to the metal, allowing his audio receptors to pick up on the faint sounds of somebot talking—Mirage's voice. There was no mistaking it; that smooth, cultured voice speaking in a clear, loud tone. However, it was indeed muffled due to the fact that thick metal separated them. It was like he was having a simple conversation with the still unconscious Magnus. Ratchet pulled back, staring at the door with his usual frown before turning to leave.

* * *

><p>"Will there be a ceremony for those who died?" Sari asked Optimus.<p>

The Prime turned to stare at the human perched on Bumblebee's shoulder. They were advancing towards the docking port, Cybertronians staring at Sari every once in a while with disgust or fear or plain old curiosity. Optimus was quickly reminded of Prowl when she mentioned the idea of a ceremony to honor those who had died, and he nodded his helm.

"I believe that there would," Optimus said, a smile quirking at the corners of his mouth.

"When do you think we'll get the news?" Bulkhead said.

"Probably soon," Optimus answered. "But right now, we have to focus on the matters on servo. C'mon."

Arcee was silent as she walked along side Optimus, occasionally glancing around the city, drinking in the sights. It was strange—she was used to seeing this city as rubble and smoking stacks of metal. It was nice to see her home restored to its former glory. Bumblebee glanced around the place, watching Autobots of all sorts of looks and sizes stare at Sari like she was some sort of tumor on the gold Autobot's shoulder. A mischievous grin smirked across his faceplates as he leaned in towards his techno-organic friend.

"Hey," he called softly.

She turned up to look into his bright blue optics. "What?" Sari said in a low tone of voice.

Bumblebee jutted his head upwards towards the crowd. "Ya wanna mess around with their processors?" he asked, grinning as he tapped the top of his helm.

Sari turned to stare at the crowd staring at them, and whirled her head around to grin back at her friend. "Yeah, let's mess with them," she said, winking at her best friend. "What do you want to do?"

Bumblebee's optics shifted around before he moved closer to his friend's ear, and whispered the plan fully to her. Sari's mouth brimmed with a broad smile, and a strain of chuckles left her lips.

"I love it," she said to him once he finished. "Let's do it."

Bumblebee nodded his helm vigorously. He paused in the middle of the street, and he took on a completely over-dramatic motion as he flailed his arms above his helm and slumped forward. Sari stood up on his shoulder as she took on a menacing look.

"Ah! It _burns_!" Bumblebee yelped as he fell onto the ground dramatically. "It _burns_!"

Sari laughed, pressing her hands to the side of his helm. "Yeah, you puny Autobot!" she said loudly so the others around them could hear. "Feel the burn!"

The Autobots cringed at the scene, and some femme in the background let out a shrill scream, while the rest of them took several steps back. The techno-organic and Autobot turned to look at the crowd, their façades dropping within seconds, and both laughed in unison as they pointed at the utterly appalled crowd of innocent bystanders.

"You should see the looks on your faceplates!" Bumblebee laughed, bowing forward as his laughter doubled.

Sari choked on said hilarity, and she allowed her body to calm so she could have a breath of fresh air. "It's hilarious!" she snickered, hands going to her middle.

The Autobots in the crowd stared at the duo in a confused glance and (or) in disgust that they had been tricked.

"Whattya kids doing?" called a gruff, yet familiar voice.

Both glanced up, catching sight of the disgruntled mech medic advancing towards them. "Don'tcha kids have something better to do than harassin' the public," he grumbled, reaching out to grab Bumblebee's arm, and yanking the yellow Autobot forward.

"Hey, doc, we're just playin', that's all," Bumblebee said, a nervous grin on his lips.

"Yeah, that's all," Sari added with an innocent smile.

"Yeah, yeah," Ratchet muttered, releasing his fast grip on Bumblebee's wrist, and all three approached the rest of the group.

Optimus smiled at the older mech. "Hello, Ratchet," he said. "Nice to see you with us again."

Ratchet did not say anything, but he merely smiled. Arcee paused in her walking, turning her helm to stare at the medic with a soft smile on her pink lips. "Hello, Ratchet," she said kindly.

He stared at her, his smile still tugging at his lips. "Hey, Arcee," the older mech said.

She reached out, gripping his arm with her servos, and walked along side him. "Did you have a good stasis?" the pink femme inquired.

Ratchet stared at her, surprised by her actions, and coughed in response. "Eh, fine," he grumbled lowly, refusing to look at her. "And you?"

"Well," she replied.

"Good."

Bumblebee arched an optic ridge to the scene, and shared a look with Sari, who was chuckling under her breath. She leaned in towards her best friend, hand, palm upwards, hovered near her face, and she whispered: "I think someone has a crush!"

"Who? Arcee or the old scrap-heap?" Bumblebee asked in an equally low tone.

"Both."

"Are you sure? I mean, she could just be thankful to Ratchet because he sorta saved her aft during the war."

"Naw, I'm sure of it," Sari said, quirking an eyebrow to the duo in front of them.

Bumblebee hummed in his throat, contemplating what she had said, and running their conversation through his processor.

"Hey, would you two hurry it up!" Ratchet yelled over his shoulder. "I'll be offline if you don't move any faster."

Bumblebee let out a sound, and he picked up his pace. "We're comin'! We're comin'!" he shouted. "Don't get your circuits in a bunch."

He stopped running when he reached Bulkhead's side, and then he leveled his pace with the rest of the group's. Bulkhead glanced at the old mech, and asked: "So, how's Blurr?"

"Eh, the kid'll be fine," he answered with a shrug of the shoulders. "He just needs proper care, and he'll recover just fine."

Bullhead smiled. "Well, that's good to hear," he said, tapping his large servos together.

Optimus smiled as he overheard this. At least the agent would be fine after some physical treatment and proper nursing. But mentally? Primus knows; he was at a lost there. The group continued to walk, and not too far away was docked Omega Supreme. Ratchet smiled at his old friend, even though Omega Supreme could not see him yet.

"Well, here we are," Optimus said aloud to the group. He turned to Sari. "Don't worry, we're almost there." He shifted into his vehicle mode, and zipped away towards the much larger Autobot in the distance.

The others followed suit, (Sari jumping into Bumblebee's alt mode once he transformed) and they followed after the Prime. In a few kliks, they reached the boarding station, only to find Jazz, and a few other scattered Autobots, at the station. The white and black painted Autobot rested against a crate, and smiled as Prime's group pulled up.

"Hey, guys," Jazz greeted with a large grin, waving a servo to them.

"Jazz," Optimus said as he shifted into his robotic form. "Hello, what brings you here?"

"Eh, I just wanna see my homies," Jazz said, stepping forward to join Prime's group. "So, how are you guys holdin' up?"

He meant about Prowl's death. Optimus smiled softly, and nodded his helm. "Yes, we're holding up just fine," he said.

Bulkhead came across, and wrapped his hulking arm around Jazz's lithe frame. "Yeah, buddy, we're fine," he said, a grin stretching across his faceplates. "Prowl wouldn't want us to be all sorry for 'im."

Jazz chuckled, reaching up at playfully swatted the large Autobot's broad chest. "Yah, I bet he wouldn't," he stated. "But I didn't know th' 'bot well, but he seems like he was a good 'bot."

Bulkhead placed Jazz back onto the ground, and the Cyber-Ninja turned fully to the rest of the group. The pink femme latched herself to a now stiff Ratchet, and smiled at the smooth-talking mech. "So, Jazz, what brings you here?" Arcee asked kindly.

"Well, just wanted t' check up on ya'll," he said, shifting on his pedes. "And how's Blurr?"

"Resting," Ratchet answered.

Jazz sighed, and then smiled softly. "That's good t' hear," he said, resting a servo to his hip. "I heard the Council sent somebot to check up on 'im."

"Mirage," huffed Ratchet.

Jazz stared at the older mech with mild surprise. "Oh, so ya met 'im," Jazz stated.

"Yeah," Ratchet muttered. "He seemed like a glitch."

Jazz laughed, reaching out to pat the old Autobot on the shoulder plating. "He kinda can be, but he's a cool 'bot," he said.

"Who's Mirage?" Bumblebee asked, turning to Bulkhead, who shrugged.

"He's, um, not the most liked by the Council, but he does his job well," Jazz stated. He leaned in, then whispered: "Don'tcha mention 'im with Cliffjumper in th' room. He don't like 'im much."

Bumblebee blinked, staring at the Ninja for a moment with a quirked optic ridge. Jazz pulled back, approaching the Prime, and gave him a smile that could melt a three-foot thick block of ice. "So, mind if I join ya?" he asked, thumbing over his shoulder plating.

Optimus looked at Jazz with wide optics. "You want to come back to Earth with us?" he asked.

"Slag, yah," Jazz said with a grin. "If that's alright wit' ya, Prime." He then became serious, arms shifting to cross over his chest. "I'm not much likin' what Sentinel Magnus' doin'. He en't playin' my tune right. And plus—" His regular grin returned to his face. "—I wanna go back t' Earth. Cool planet; I dig it."

Optimus' lips turned up into a smile. "Well, I don't see the problem," the Prime said, placing his servos to his hips. He turned to his group for emotional support.

"Totally cool with me!" Sari said, throwing her arm into the air.

"Slag yeah," Bumblebee stated, grinning at the Ninja.

Jazz grinned. Bulkhead then went over, grapping the Cyber-Ninja into a tight hug; lifting him off the ground and his pedes dangled in the air. "Good to have ya on the team, buddy," the large green Autobot said happily.

The Cyber-Ninja chuckled, mildly squirming in the large Autobot's fast, yet harmless, grip. "Yah, thanks," he said, grinning.

Optimus laughed, and shook his helm in a playful manner. "Okay, Bulkhead, let Jazz go," he stated, walking past the two and onto the large Autobot ship.

Bulkhead carefully lowered the Cyber-Ninja to the ground, allowing the lithe Autobot to return to his full, erect stance. "Sounds great, OP," he said, snapping his digits as he followed the Prime into Omega Supreme. "Sounds like a rad plan."

* * *

><p>Ratchet fondly patted the machine's keyboard. "Hey there, ol' friend," he greeted as he took his seat.<p>

The large Autobot stirred—all aboard could feel it—and it flickered to life. "_Hello, Ratchet_," Omega Supreme greeted calmly.

"How was your stasis?"

"_Well_," the Autobot ship answered in return. "_Are_ _the Decepticons arrested and sealed away in prison?_"

"Totally," Bumblebee answered, taking his own seat. "They've been locked up and the keys have been thrown away!" He reclined in his chair, kicking his pedes onto the dash.

Ratchet frowned at the actions of the yellow Autobot, and shook his helm. "Bumblebee, get your pedes off Omega Supreme's dash," he grumbled loudly.

The young Autobot quickly removed his pedes from the dashboard, and slouched in his chair as Sari giggled lightly at him. Jazz took a seat, the seat where Prowl would have sat, and reclined in it. "So, lil' lady," he said, addressing Sari directly, "are ya gunna tell me why ya look so different?"

Sari blinked, staring at the newest member of their group, and turned to Optimus for some emotional support. Well, it made sense that Arcee and Jazz would _have_ to know about the situation Sari was currently in. And, of course, the Council would like to know about Sari being part Cybertronian. Perhaps it could shed some light upon the situation, and open other Cybertronians to becoming partners with Earth. It was a stretch, but it could happen. Optimus cleared his throat loudly to gain the attention of the others in the large Autobot ship.

"Arcee, Jazz, there is something we need to discuss," Optimus said.

"Alright," Arcee said in a low tone as she took her seat.

"Yah, sure, OP," Jazz stated, crossing his legs. "What izzit?"

Optimus stared at the two of the Autobots, and his engine let out a deep sigh. "Okay, this is going to be a little difficult to explain, but Sari is a Cybertronian," he said, a tiny smile on his lips.

Arcee and Jazz were silent, just taking in the information before turning to stare at Sari, who smiled widely at them.

"Whoa, whoa, back up there," Jazz said, throwing up his servos in sharp back-forth movements. "Lill' lady don't look like an Autobot."

Arcee stared at Sari, drinking in her features, and tried to understand what she had just heard. "But, how can that be?" she said, cocking her helm. "You don't look like a Cybertronian."

Bumblebee grinned as he chuckled lightly. "Well, here's the story," he began. "Somehow, fifty stellar-cycles ago, a Cybertronian protoform got onto Earth, and Sari's father touched it, and that protoform is Sari." He tapped at his best friend's head playfully.

Minor realization dawned upon Jazz and Arcee's faceplates. Jazz leaned in, resting his arms on his knees as he stared at Sari. "Mech, that's some wild stuff," he said, grinning.

Arcee stared at Sari with a sense of awe. "So, is that why she looks like a human?" she inquired.

"Yeah," Bulkhead said. "Sari's father's DAN, wait, no—um, what was it called?"

"DNA," Ratchet answered quickly, tapping gently at the screen below him.

"Right, his DNA mixed with the protoform and created Sari," he answered, smiling widely.

The two Autobots glanced at each other for a moment as they drank in the information that was given to them. The ninja turned back to them, grinned, and reclined fully into his chair.

"Neat-O," Jazz said, snapping his digits. "Now tell me: what is a 'father'?"

Optimus shook his head, chuckling lightly as his hand rubbed at his chin. This was going to take a while.


	12. Welcome Home

**The site's new look is sorta bothering me. Meh.**

* * *

><p>Welcome Home<p>

XII

It was late night in Detroit, Michigan.

It had been nearly two days since his daughter left to help her Autobot friends, and Isaac wanted to see her again. He knew she was in safe hands with the Autobots, but she was her father—it was his job for him to worry over her. He clutched a cup of warm coffee to his chest as he sat limply in a chair much wider and taller than he. Every once in a while, he would sip at his drink, and stare at the Space Bridge, just hoping that the Autobots and his daughter would come through. The warmth of the liquid radiated from the cup and tickled his palms. He took another sip.

His dark eyes glanced over the city, which was being restored—well, the restoration was put on hold. It was a little too late to do any work of that nature. He tugged the blanket around his shoulders as the chilly wind rushed over him. His coffee's steam rippled upwards, dancing in the air seductively, banishing as soon as it appeared. Isaac took another drink of his warm beverage.

That was when the Space Bridge sparked to life, and the Indian engineer glanced up at the enormous structure, smiling widely. He quickly stood up (but not too quickly so he would not spill his coffee on him), and approached the large metal construction. Omega Supreme came from the opening, slowly and carefully, and glided across the wind towards an open space, away from the city and the buildings. His daughter was home. He smiled brightly, and took another long sip of his drink.

"Oh, boy," he said, rubbing the cup against his palms.

* * *

><p>"Man, do I dig this place or do I dig this place?" Jazz asked, stepping onto the ground below him.<p>

He was the first one off the large Autobot airship, and he was drinking in the organic world around him. His arms were stretched, feeling the coolness of the wind upon his white chassis. Sari shivered, rubbing her hands against her arms to warm them. It was night? How could that be? It was morning on Cybertron (or half of Cybertron; the other half was situated in night). Whatever the reason, it was night, and that was that. Bulkhead looked to Jazz, and a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.

"You like Earth a lot, huh?" the bulky Autobot said.

"Slag yeah, I'm stickin' 'round dis joint," the Cyber-Ninja replied, shrugging his shoulders. "If dat's alright wit' ya'll?"

Bumblebee smiled, staring at the ninja with bright blue optics. "Yeah, totally," he said, clapping a servo on Jazz's shoulder in a friendly manner. "It'll be great having you around."

Optimus stepped forward, giving the Cyber-Ninja a soft smile. Jazz turned to stare up at the Prime, and offered him a grin. "Dat okay wit' ya?" he asked.

"Of course," Optimus answered. "I don't see why not."

Jazz's grin grew, and he pumped his fist in the air. "Yes," he hooted.

Sari snickered, leaning against Bumblebee's helm as her arms crossed over her chest. "I bet Fanzone will be excited about this," she joked, a grin twitching at the corners of her mouth.

Jazz whirled around, staring at the techno-organic with a confused expression. "Who?" he asked, cocking his helm to the side.

"Um, short, balding—he got on Cybertron," Sari said, swirling a finger in the air, thinking of a way to explain him to Jazz.

"Oh, yeah," the Ninja said, snapping his digits. "I remember 'im. He don't like machines, right?"

"Yep, that's him," Bumblebee said, shrugging his shoulders, and snickered. "And if Cybertron and Earth become partners—"

Sari let out a loud laugh, her arms gripping her stomach as she wheezed out. "Oh, God, he'll have a heart attack," she said around her laugh.

Bumblebee joined in on the laughter. "Machines, machines everywhere!" he said in a bellowing voice, pretending he was the police captain as he spoke. "Stupid talking machines from that stupid machine planet! _This is why I hate machines!_"

Sari laughed louder, leaning against Bumblebee more fully. "Good one," she said, allowing herself to calm down.

Optimus shook his head, smiling lightly and playfully. "Alright, you two," he said, bringing a servo to tap gently at the top of Bumblebee's helm. "C'mon, let's go get Sari something to fuel up on. We have to be back on Cybertron in a megacycle, so let's not waste time." He quickly shifted into his truck alternate mode, and zoomed off to Sumdac Tower.

Jazz was to follow as was Bulkhead. Bumblebee placed Sari onto the ground, shifted into his alternate mode, and popped the door open for Sari to enter.

"Hey, where's the ol' mech and pinkie?" the yellow Autobot asked.

Sari blinked, and glanced around, finally taking notice that they were not here. "I don't know," she answered. "Where are they?"

Bumblebee sighed dramatically. "Ratchet's probably bromancing with Omega Supreme and Acree's getting all lovey-dovey with the ol' mech," he stated with an internal roll of the optics. "Ew. Arcee and him? That's just _wrong_."

Sari playfully slapped the dashboard in front of her. "Oh, don't be that way," she said around a giggle.

"What way?" he playfully asked.

"Never mind, just comm-link him and tell him that we're going home, and we'll meet them there," Sari said, reclining in the front seat.

"Righty-O," Bumblebee said. There was a minor pause, and then the yellow Autobot spoke: "Heya, Ratchet!"

"_What? Whattya want?_"

"See you at Sumdac Tower," Bumblebee perkily said.

"_Right, yeah, see ya there._"

"Alright."

Bumblebee revved his engine, and sped off towards Sumdac Tower.

* * *

><p>"I like this planet."<p>

Ratchet turned around, staring at Arcee, who was peering out of one of Omega Supreme's many windows. There was a small smile on her lips, and her servos rested against her stomach. She stared out to the city, which was alive with multiple lights of a plethora of colours, and the buildings were outlined by their lights. Arcee turned to Ratchet.

"How long where you and your friends here?" she asked.

"Um, a few Earth orbital-cycles," Ratchet answered, waving a servo in the air distantly. "Um, six, I believe. Four in Cybertronian orbital-cycles."

Arcee nodded, turning back to look out the window. Ratchet cleared his throat, taking a seat in his favorite one. "Arcee, could you come here?" he asked.

The pink Autobot turned to him, staring unblinkingly at him. "Are you going to tell me what happened ever since I went into stasis?" she asked knowingly.

"You might as well know," he said. "And you too, Omega Supreme."

"_A lot has happened since we were in stasis, hasn't it, Ratchet?_" Omega Supreme asked, almost to the likeness of an innocent child.

Ratchet let out a mild chuckle, and gave the airship a few gentle pats on one of his many keyboards. "Yes, old friend, a lot has happened," he said. The medical mech turned up to the pink Autobot, and motioned her to sit down. "Come, sit, we've got a lot to talk about. So, ya might as well get comfortable."

* * *

><p>The Autobots pulled up to the tall tower before them, the bright white and mild golden lights cast outward, illuminating the area around the said building. Normally, at this time, most of the lights would be off (some lights would be on so people driving would be able to see it). The front door was obviously open, for the older Indian man rushed through the automatic doors, and went to his daughter, sweeping her into a hug.<p>

"Oh, Sari, I'm so glad you're home. I missed you."

Isaac tightly held his daughter to him, rocking her as he hugged her. Sari chuckled nervously, but returned the embrace.

"Yeah, you too, Dad," she said, pulling back to smile at him. "I missed you too." Sari glanced him over. "You didn't stay up too late, did you?"

Isaac sheepishly shrugged his shoulders. "I was worried about my little girl," he said, patting the top of her head.

"Don't worry, Dad, the Autobots looked after me just fine," she said, thumbing over her shoulder to her large mechanical friends. "You never have to worry."

Isaac pulled her into another warm hug whilst looking up at the Autobots, who remained (still) skeptical of him. Optimus shifted, getting on one knee to get a better look at the duo, and a small smile twitched at the corners of his pale blue lips.

"You should know us by now, Mr. Sumdac," the Prime stated.

"Oh, I know," the chubby man said, pulling away from his daughter, put placed his hand to her shoulder. "But I'm a father—I can't help but to worry."

Sari turned to her father, shifting her weight on her foot, and spoke: "Hey, Dad, I'm hungry. I'm going to get some food, okay?"

"Of course," Isaac said, giving a light nod of the head. "Take whatever you want."

She nodded her head, a bright smile on her face, and scampered into the building, desperate to eat and to soothe her rumbling stomach. Isaac then turned back to the Autobots, a mild frown on his lips. Optimus pride cleared his vocalizer against his fist, worried about the awkward silence that hung around in the atmosphere.

"Has Megatron been locked away?" Isaac asked quickly.

"Slag yeah!" Bumblebee said, pumping a fist in the air. "Locked up and gone! We don't have to worry about him anymore!"

Isaac placed a hand to his chest, and let out a deep sigh. "That's good," he said softly. "Good. That's good." He paused, and looked back up to the Prime. "And Prowl?"

"He's been put to rest," Optimus Prime answered. "I believe we're going to have a funeral soon. We're all going to be there, if there is one. Would you like to come?"

"Of course," Isaac said, hands locking together. "He was a good person. I would love to go to his funeral, and to give my support."

"That's good to hear."

Isaac glanced around, noticing that the grumpy old mech and the gentle pink femme were not there with the rest of the group. "Where is Ratchet and the pink one?" he asked, wiggling his digit in the air.

Bumblebee let out a pfft-like sound, and shrugged his shoulders. "Back at the Omega Supreme airship," he said, rolling his optics. "Primus knows what they're doing."

The scientist chuckled. "Well, come inside," he said, moving in the direction of the large automatic doors. "I have oil for you. I figured that you would like some."

"Oh, yeah," Bulkhead said, rubbing his fortifying servos together, and his fuel tank rumbled at the thought of having oil. "Sounds good to me. A nice can of oil would hit the spot."

The group of Autobots entered the Sumdac building. Of course, all but Jazz was used to it—the Cyber-Ninja was taking his time, drinking in the interior with relish. "Man, dis 'ere is a sweet place you've got going on," he said.

Isaac turned up to the white and black Autobot, and smiled. "Well, thank you," he said. "And what is your name again?"

"Jazz," he answered with a dashing smile and the playful snap of his digits. "And you?"

"Isaac Sumdac," he answered. "But you can call me Mr. Sumdac."

"Got it."

Optimus and the crew followed the wealthy man towards the back, where cans of oil lay there, ready to be drunk. "Mr. Sumdac," the Prime called as he grabbed two cans, handing each to Bumblebee and the giddy Bulkhead. "We don't have much time. We have to go back to Cybertron."

"Oh? For the funeral?"

"Um, no—Cybertron is thinkin' 'bout becomin' partners wit' Earth," Jazz answered, taking a can for himself.

"Ever since Megatron and the other Decepticons had been captured, and we came back as heroes," Optimus explained, waving a servo in the air idly, "and we mentioned that some humans have been helping us find and capture Decepticons, it has been thought that it would be good to become partners with Earth. A group of scientists are going to be sent here to explore and serve as Cybertron's ambassadors."

"Oh, I see," Isaac said slowly and softly.

Bulkhead took a long gulp from his can, and turned to the small human, a look of confusion on his faceplates. "What? Is something wrong with that?" he asked gently.

"Oh, no, you see, _I_ have no problem with that," Isaac quickly explained, "but what about the rest of the world?"

"True," Optimus said. "I suppose world leaders would have to have an agreement if this were to ever work."

"But th' people seem t' like us, so I don't see why not," Jazz said, a smile on his lips as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Well . . ." Isaac stressed, grinding his teeth. "But that was when the world thought that the Autobots were my creations."

The group of Autobots looked stunned as the human man went on:

"I was afraid that if the world knew you were aliens, there would be a wide-spread panic and that if we kept the public thinking that you guys were creations of mine there would not be a panic. But since that spaceship and since Megatron was captured, it has been released that you are indeed aliens, and there is a bit of a panic."

"H-how bad of a panic?" Optimus asked, dreading the answer the minute he asked.

"Well, let's watch," Isaac said as he scampered over to a drawer where a remote was, and turned it upwards to a television, flipping it on. "I recorded some of the news, to give you an idea, of course."

The small screen flickered with life, and a recording of a woman with curled locks of chocolate brown appeared.

"_Breaking news: the famous Isaac Sumdac of Sumdac Industries mostly known for the creation of humanoid robots that helped make our lives easier and for his kindness and truth, has lied. For months he had told us that these new robots—_" A picture of Optimus Prime and his group appeared at her left. "_—were his creations, and they are not. They are aliens. Robot aliens from a distant planet called Cybertron. It is unknown what they want from us, or if they do us any harm."_

Another reel appeared, but this time with a group of people sitting around a table:

"_Now that we know that these giant robots are in fact aliens from outer space, should we be worried about us and our planet as a whole?_" a balding man asked.

"_Now, hold on, if they wanted to take over our planet, they would have done so_," another man, a younger one, stated quickly. "_And they have not taken over our planet._"

"Yet," a woman said roughly. "_What if they want our planet and their tactic is to befriend us? We have to consider this._"

"_Now, wait a minute. Hold the phone, here_," a woman of earth-soil skin said, holding up her hands. "_We forget that they are people too. For years Hollywood has portrayed aliens as the bad guys—aliens have been showed to be entire races of evil and domination. Now, I highly doubt that an entire race can be evil. There is good and bad in all walks of life, so we can't just assume that just because they are aliens that they are automatically evil._"

"_But we can't take that out of the equation either_," the balding man said, waving a finger in her direction. "_What if they do want to do us harm?_"

"_And what if they _don't," the younger man pitched in.

"_Look, I know that you two don't want to think that they are bad guys, but we have to look after ourselves_," the balding man said, placing his hands to his chest. "_They are an entire race of robots that can turn into planes, trucks, and cars! They can take over our world right under our noses. They are robots in disguise! Now, I don't want a world war against an alien planet, and I don't feel like diving into a bomb shelter to protect my family and myself._"

"_That's right_," the white woman said. "_We have to protect ourselves from the alien threat._"

"_But what if they aren't a threat and they just want to be friends?_" the black woman asked.

"_Then fine, but until then, they are the enemy._"

The second recording ended, and a third one came onto the screen. It showed an elderly woman with a middle-aged woman, and they were sitting at a table—possibly a table in their own home.

"_This is the end of the world_," the older woman said. "_This is the end!_"

"_Oh, Mom, hush_," the middle-aged female said. "_That's what you said in 2012, and it never happened._" She sighed dramatically, and turned to look into the camera. "_Look, I have nothing to say about these aliens other than if they were a danger they would have tried to take us over a long time ago, so I don't think we have to worry about anything._"

"_Yes we do! It's the end of the world as told by Jesus!_"

"_Oh, Mother—!_"

The third reel ended, and the screen showed three young teenagers, all excited to be filmed and to be broadcasted on the television.

"_So_," a male voice said off camera, "_what do you think about these robot aliens living in Detroit?_"

"_I say it's wickedly awesome, man_," a blonde boy said with a large grin. "_Giant alien robots? Sounds frickin' awesome to me!_"

"_Yeah, totally_," a girl with long red hair and freckles on her cheeks said.

"_Now, what if they are those types of aliens that want to take over the world?_"

There was a long pause.

"_Then we're screwed_," the third one said.

That reel ended, and a new one started. This time, there was a younger man (around his twenties) staring at the screen with wide eyes and his hands up.

"_Look, they are aliens—_robotic aliens," he said, teeth grinding together. "_We are all dead! You hear me! Dead! Say your prayers, 'cause, baby, we are going to get taken over and die, or worse, get enslaved!_"

Bumblebee huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "That guy's got his priorities backwards," he grumbled.

"Bumblebee, sssh," Optimus said softly.

The screen showed a mass of people screaming and holding signs in the air. Behind them was the grand Golden Gate Bridge, which was shrouded with mild morning mist. The signs that the people were holding had writing written upon their smooth fronts. The messages were either "Fear the robots!" or "The end is near!" or "Prepare yourselves for war!"

A woman's voice then started to narrate what was happening:

"_Religious groups fear that the robots, who now reside in Detroit, have come to take over our planet, and they we, as the human race, must fight them in order to protect ourselves._"

A woman with frown lines and greying hair appeared on the screen. "_These aliens are part of the end of the world. They are evil spawns of Satan that have come to kill us all for our wrong-doings! We must repent in order to have our salvation!_"

"There you are!"

The others broke their gaze from the screen, seeing Sari with a large bag of potato chips in one hand, and a can of open pop in the other. She was munching on the food in her mouth, and then took a large swallow.

"Whatcha watching?" she asked, pointing at the screen.

"Shhh," Optimus said softly, placing a digit to his lips.

Bumblebee motioned for his little techno-organic friend to come towards him, which she did, and all the while staring at the television with confusion. There, on the screen, were a group of people, screaming in a foreign language, German, and they held up signs, waving them wildly in the air.

"_In world news, the people of Germany are having rallies against the robotic aliens that live in America. There is obvious fear and wide-spread panic across all of Europe, and even the world._"

A German man then was shown, and he was speaking towards the camera, completely in German. Even though he was speaking in another language, it was obvious that he was scared out of his mind. At the bottom of the screen was the translation of what he was saying:

"_I can honestly say that I am afraid. I mean, they are aliens, and they obviously are very advanced—more advanced than us. They can do anything to us._"

Sari watched, leaning against her yellow Autobot friend, forgetting to eat as she just stared at the television with shock. The Autobots were good people—they had protected her home city from Decepticons, and Prowl had given his life up to protect all mankind. And people were doing this? It made no sense.

"What on Cybertron?"

The others turned to see Ratchet and Arcee (when did they come in?), who were now staring up at the small television. The old mech had a stern frown on his lips, and his servos went to his hips. "We're not goin' to take over Earth," he said with a scowl on his lips. "What is this?"

"The humans are afraid that we're going to take over and enslave them," Bulkhead stated quickly, lifting his fat digit to point at the screen.

"Now why would we do that?"

"Hush!" Optimus said hotly. "Can I hear?"

The others quickly shut their mouths as the recorded news reel continued for a few more seconds before it stopped. The Prime let out a sigh, resting his servo against his cheek.

"Never mind," the Prime said.

Isaac flipped off the television, and turned back to the Autobots. "That's what's been happening so far," he said. "The President is going to address this 'issue'."

"The president?" Bulkhead asked.

"Yeah, America's leader," Sari said, shoving a handful of chips into her mouth. "And if she's going to talk about it, then that's bad."

"But we mean no harm," Bulkhead stated, optic ridges furrowing. "We've been here for a while, and we didn't do anything."

"But that's what they think," Arcee said softly. "We may not be dangerous, but if they think we are, then we are to them."

"Arcee's right," Ratchet said, nodding his helm curtly. "It's a point of view thing for the rest of the humans."

Jazz scratched his neck, and frowned. "Well, all we have t' do is t' get th' Council t' come 'ere and set things straight, right?" he asked, a nervous smile on his lips, and shrugged.

Optimus sighed deeply, and turned to the others of his crew. "Well, we should inform the Council about this," he said. He turned to the male human. "We'll be returning to Cybertron in about a megacycle—um, roughly two Earth hours. Perhaps you should get some sleep."

"You're going back? So soon?" Isaac asked, eyes wide and eyebrows raised.

"We have to meet with the Council about this situation," Optimus said.

"Then what should I say if a get any calls?"

"Calls? From who?"

"I've been getting a lot of calls from news people, world leaders; the President wants to see you," Isaac said, gritting his teeth with brows furrowed. "They won't stop calling. I had to disconnect my phone systems to get some peace. But then they find me here at work, and try to get in and ask me questions. What should I say to them?"

Optimus hummed thoughtfully, and rubbed at his chin with a digit and his thumb. "Tell them that we will return soon, and just say that," he said. "That should keep them at bay."

Isaac nodded. "Sounds good," he stated.

So many things were coming at them at once—the Council wanting to see them, being ambassadors for Cybertron, calming the worry of the humans, going to court to protect Cliffjumper, makings sure that Blurr would heal and return to his normal self, and the funeral for Prowl and the others. It was too much, but Optimus knew that they had to take things one step at a time.

"Okay, great," he said, a smile on his lips. Optimus Prime turned to Sari, who was shoving food into her mouth greedily, and only taking sips of her beverage between swallows. "Are you done fueling up?"

"Almost," Sari said, nearly choking on a chip as she took a long sip of her pop. "Let me finish up, okay?"

"Sure, we've got some time," the Prime said. "Go on and get some fuel for yourself. And maybe you should pack something to carry with you, just in case."

"Right," Sari said, winking at the Prime as she finished her can of soda. "I'll just finish this bag and make a sandwich. How much time do we have?"

"And hour and thirty minutes," Ratchet answered, checking his internal clocking meter.

"Oh, then I should do make it now," Sari said, detaching herself from Bumblebee, and quickly scampered away.

Jazz watched her go with a mild smile, but then frowned as he turned to the others. "Do ya think that we'll be kicked off th' planet if th' humans don't want us?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, my thoughts are that they may want to start a war," Optimus stated. "And that's the last thing we need—another war. After all, we _still_ are dealing with the Decepticons."

"But I thought that Megatron was captured," Isaac said, wringing his hands.

"Well, just because Megatron is captured doesn't mean the Decepticons have stopped," Bulkhead said. "There are still many out there."

"And they might want to try to break Megatron and the other Decepticons out of prison," Arcee said softly.

"There's that too," Ratchet said around a scowl. "Look, Prime, all you have to do is talk to the people of Earth. Maybe when the President addresses this issue, we should all come an' talk."

"Yah, then maybe th' humans won't think that we're all bad," Jazz said, a quirky smile tugging at his lips. "Whattya say?"

"Of course," Optimus said, "it is the only logical choice."

"Then we get to stay here, right, boss-bot?" Bumblebee asked, staring up at the Prime.

The blue Autobot smiled, and nodded his helm. "Yes, Bumblebee, then we can stay here," he said.

"Good, 'cause I don't want to go anywhere," the yellow Autobot said, grinning widely. "We like this place, right, Bulkhead?"

The large green Autobot chuckled deeply. "You got it, buddy," he said, holding his servo out, and Bumblebee high-fived it.

Jazz grinned. "Yah, I would like t' stay 'ere an' git t' know dis planet," he said. "Hate t' be kicked off, yah know what I mean?"

"Yep," Bumblebee said, thumbing upwards.

Ratchet hummed in his throat. He was thinking about mentioning the tall blue and white Autobot that went by the name of Mirage, but he was unsure. He had never heard of the mech, and his model looked like the type that only the wealthy had. And besides, he looked like a self-absorbed slagger. He turned to Arcee. "So, how are you?" he asked with genuine concern.

She glanced up at him. "Oh, fine," the pink femme answered. "Just a lot to take in, you know."

"Yes, I know," he said sagely. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

"No, it's okay," Arcee said. "It's not your fault."

"Then why does it feel like it's my fault?" he grumbled, refusing to look at her in the optics as he spoke.

She looked at him, a frown on her pink lip components. That was when Sari returned with a brown paper bag in tow and a grin on her face. "Okay, sorry for the wait," she said, waving a hand in the air. "Are we ready to go?"

"Slag yeah," Bumblebee said, quickly shifting into his alternate mode so Sari could get in.

She poked her head out of the window, and smiled at her father. "Okay, Dad, I'll see you soon," she said, reaching out so that they could grab the other's hands. "Gotta go deal with the heads of the Council."

He smiled softly at her. "I know, Sari," Isaac said, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. "Take care now."

"Of course, I got the Autobots to protect me," she said with a wink. "And I'm not too shabby of a fighter myself."

Optimus Prime chuckled, and shifted into his truck mode. "We'll see you soon, Mr. Sumdac," he said. "Alright, Autobots, transform and roll out."

The Autobots did just that, leaving the building while being extra careful not to leave skid marks on the floor and not to knock anything over. They zoomed in the direction of where Omega Supreme was docked, and above, the night faded away into the early hours of morning, leaving behind hues of bright orange and gold.


	13. Ladies and Gentlemechs

**Let's play a game! G****uess who the mech is when you reach the end of this chapter!**

**And, hey, how are you all? Bit of an OC bash here. Bleh.**

* * *

><p>Ladies and Gentlemechs<p>

XIII

The Council was preparing to meet.

Some few scattered Autobot secretaries were running around, setting everything up for everybot, running last-klik errands, and the like. The seats where those who were attending the meeting were currently being cleaned; the room where this was to happen closed off, leaving everybot to gather and mingle in the large waiting room. Small cubes of Energon being placed on each desk, data-pads joining the cubes in the centre of said desks, and others were cleaning the area, making the smooth metal sparkle. Like always, Ion and her group were there first. Ion stood there, staring at her data-pad, reading the text upon it. Peacemaker stood by her, his pedes pointed inward, and his lofty shoulders slumped.

"Alpha Trion said a-a m-megacycle, right?" the orange and tan mini-bot inquired.

"That's right," she said, not turning up from her data-pad. "We've got some time. Don't you worry."

"I—I'm not," Peacemaker stated, waving a servo down. "J-just asking."

Solarburn stood stiffly by, arms crossed over his pale green chest, and that always-there frown upon his lips. "I can't believe I had to cancel all my appointments," he muttered to himself.

Starblaster turned down to stare at his lover, and gently nudged him on the large shoulder. "_Mon chéri_, this is important," he said gently. "Jou can always call them back, _oui_."

"Oh, I know, I know," Solarburn said, waving his servo in the air. "But you know that I don't like cancelling my appointments."

"_Oui_, I know."

The green and grey Autobot let out a huffed, and glanced around the area. "Where is Atomspark?" he asked distantly.

"O-over there," Peacemaker said, pointing to the east of him.

All, even Ion, turned up to stare in the direction of where Peacemaker was pointing, and noticed Atomspark leaning nonchalantly against the wall, and animatedly chatting with a handsome looking mech.

"Oh, yes, the hunter found his prey, and he has pounded upon the helpless victim with smooth talk and bright smiles," Solarburn said with a roll of the optics. "Now the hunter will spin some lies to further ensnare said victim, and will have a pointless one-night stand with him, and Atomspark will never call him back." He scoffed. "Moron."

Ion just stared at Atomspark, a stern frown on her face, and her visor narrowed. She then realized she was staring, quickly yanked her optics from the duo against the wall, and returned to reading the text on her data-pad. Solarburn watched the only femme in the group with raised optic ridges, and his half-open optics widened only slightly. Peacemaker coughed, and reaching up, tugging on Ion's arm gently.

"D-do you want a-a cube?" he asked softly.

She smiled warily at him. "Yes, that would be nice," Ion said.

He blinked, nodded, and shuffled over to Solarburn and Starblaster. "D-do you t-two want cubes?" he asked, staring at the floor and not at the pair of lovers.

Solarburn did not speak; only lifting a servo to tip Peacemaker's head upward so that his bright green optics met with bright fiery orange optics. "Peacemaker, keep optic-contact when you talk to others," he said calmly. "Do you remember that?"

"Y-yes, Solarburn," Peacemaker said, refusing the urge to glance at the floor.

Solarburn nodded, a slight smile on his lips. "Just keep practicing and you'll get better," he said, allowing his servo to drop at his side. "And, yes, I would like a cube." He turned up to his taller lover. "What about you?"

"_Oui_," Starblaster said. He slid over to the mini-bot, clamping a servo on one of his lofty shoulders. "Come, let's go get some cubes."

"S-sure," Peacemaker said, smiling up at the flying Autobot.

The two Autobots walked away from the small group, and Solarburn approached Ion, who was now staring at Atomspark with a stern frown. The green and grey Autobot placed his servos behind his back, and leaned in towards the teal and white Autobot.

"Ion, you're staring," he said smoothly.

She twitched violently, turning her helm to stare at the mech next to her. "Oh, um, yeah," she sputtered, quickly glancing down to read her data-pad.

Solarburn watched her with a lucid expression. "How do you feel knowing and seeing that your old lover is seducing others?" he asked coolly.

"Oh, don't you start that," Ion snarled, her lips curling into a scowl.

"Hmm? Start what?"

"That—this whole mental health doctor slag and using those mind-tricks and innocent-sounding questions on me," she hissed, pointing a sharp digit at him, and her visor narrowed. "You are not my psychiatrist."

"Oh, I see," Solarburn said, turning his helm down in thought. "I'm only you're psychiatrist when only you see fit, right?"

"I—" She quickly clamped her mouth shut, and glared at Solarburn, who was bluntly smirking at her. "Wipe that smirk of your faceplates. You can be _so_ arrogant at times."

"Look, you are my friend, and I don't wish to see you hurt," Solarburn said, his smirk falling off his lips. "You know you can always talk to me."

Ion's stare softened, and she nodded her helm. She knew that he would always be there for her, like the good friend he was. "I know, I know," she whispered. "And thank you."

"No need to thank me. Last time I checked, that was what friends did for each other."

She smiled gratefully at him, and patted his grey arm tenderly. "Thanks," she said as her arms crossed over her chest.

Solarburn gave a curt nod of the helm. "Perhaps you should discuss your feelings of him with him," he suggested. "It is always best to discuss intimate matters with the one you had romantic emotions and relations towards."

She scoffed, shaking her helm. "Why? It's obvious he's completely over me," Ion said, thrusting a servo in the direction of Atomspark.

Solarburn cocked an optic ridge. "Things are not always what they seem, Ion," he said in a low tone.

Ion turned to the green and grey mech with surprise. He met her gaze with those half-open optics, and gave her a mild shrug. "Looks can be very deceiving," he added, leaning towards her.

She continued to stare at him, her processor slowly digesting the information that was given to her. Her lips became a flat line, and her glossa felt like a heavy weight in her mouth. That was when a snickering sound entered her audio receptors, and both were graced with the playful presence of Atomspark, who was grinning like he had just received the highest honor in all of Cybertron.

"Well, look who it is," Solarburn said flatly. "Done with your embarrassing escapade to find a meaningless and utterly shameful one-night stand?"

Atomspark grinned, and waved a digit in the air. "For your information, buddy," he began coyly, "it is not shameful if the one I pursue also wants a one-night stand."

"Oh, so you found another shameless lustful moron? Oh, how wonderful," Solarburn stated, waving a servo distantly in the air.

"Oh, please, you _wish_ you had my lifestyle."

"Um, no, I am quite happy with Starblaster, thank you very much. You, on the other servo, are never happy."

"Hey, I _am_ too."

"Your chronic fears of intimacy tell me otherwise. Speaking of which, would you like to talk upon that subject manner? I am a good listener, as you know."

He let out a loud pfft sound, and shook his helm. "No thanks, Solar," he said, "I don't want you to start your mumbo-jumbo on me. Psychology isn't a science, after all."

Solarburn growled, and narrowed his bright orange optics. "I beg to differ," he hissed lowly. "I have helped many 'bots recover from all sorts of painful and traumatic issues. Don't you start this garbage again. Psychology _is_ a science. Not all science has stuff blowing up in it."

"All it is—it's all guessing and 'what ifs'!" Atomspark gushed. "There is no solid evidence for it. All you do is guess what others feel and think, and ask meaningless questions." He then smirked. "And if psychology is a science, why haven't you been able to help Peacemaker."

Solarburn's jaw went slack for a moment, then he closed it, and glared hard at the mech in front of him. "Peacemaker is a work in progress," he stated smoothly. "He has been getting better. He is not as introverted as he used to be."

"He still st-st-st-stutters."

"We're working on that."

"And what about _your_ issues? _Hmmm_?"

"I work on them as well. And you're one to talk. You have issues a mile long."

"_I do not._"

Ion rolled her optics from behind her visor, and threw up her servos, all the while keeping a strong hold on her data-pad. "Ugh, I hate it when you two bicker at each other like a couple of old bondmates," she grumbled. The femme turned on her high heel pedes, and trekked in another direction.

Atomspark watched her leave with a perplexed face. "Oi, where you going?" he called.

"Outside," she shouted back.

She walked towards two large glass doors, which were wide and open, allowing a minor breeze to roll into the interior of the building. Atomspark cocked his head to the side, and placed his servos to his hips, a large frown on his face all the while. Solarburns arms went up to cross over his chest, and he turned to the other mech with a sneer.

"Psychology _is_ a science."

Atomspark groaned, a servo slapping to his face. He let out a grumbling sound, but really did not speak to Solarburn directly. The green and grey Autobot shifted his weight on another leg, still glancing up and down the Autobot before him.

"_Mon chéri_," a familiar voice called.

Solarburn turned, smiling as Peacemaker and Starblaster approached them, cubes in servo. The flying Autobot handed a cube to him, smiling lightly. "Here jou go," he said.

"Thank you," Solarburn said, taking the cube into his servos, and pressed a kiss to the corner of Starblaster's cheek.

"Jour welcome," he said, taking a sip of his own cube, and gently patted his lover's shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the green and grey's Autobot's helm crest.

Peacemaker glanced around, keeping his fast grip on two cubes, and then he turned up to Solarburn and Atomspark. "W-where is I-Ion?" he asked, lofty shoulders slumped.

"Outside, at the balcony," Solarburn said, lifting a servo to point towards the area where the femme was located.

Peacemaker turned to where the Autobot pointed, and nodded is helm. "T-thank you," he said, and scuttled over to where she was.

Atomspark glanced at them, and grimaced at the fact that he _didn't_ have a cube. "Where's my cube?" he said, throwing his servos into the air.

"You don't get one," Solarburn said, taking a drink from his cube.

"Ah, would jou like for _moi_ to get jou one?" Starblaster said, digits drumming on his cube.

"Yes, I would like one," Atomspark said, crossing his arms over his chest, and nodded his helm curtly. "Thank you."

Starblaster nodded, and turned to retrieve his friend a cube, only to be stopped by Solarburn's servo gripping the wing plate on his arm. "No, Star, you're not his personal slave," he muttered, taking a drink from his cube. "If he wants his cube, he can go get his own cube."

The flying Autobot shuffled closer to his lover, frowning, and took a long slow sip from his cube. Atomspark cleared his vocalizer against his clasped fist, Starblaster drummed his digits against his half-open cube, and Solarburn was currently taking minute sips of his cube. It was obvious that the tall and broad Autobot was stewing in shame and guilt, and he was forcing himself not to show it. However, he crumbled.

"I'll go get jou a cube," Starblaster stated, turning to scuttle away from the duo before Solarburn could object.

Solarburn frowned, turning to Atomspark with a rock-hard glare, and he was smirking wildly at the psychiatrist.

"You take advantage of his kindness," the green and grey mech said bluntly.

"Oh, yeah, and you don't?" Atomspark shot back with a smirk.

Solarburn's jaw opened, closed, opened, and then closed again. It was like he wanted to speak, but his processor wouldn't allow him to. "I do not," he finally said, finally finding his voice.

"Not in the way I do, of course, but you do in other ways."

Solarburn's optics narrowed into sleek slits, and Atomspark was chuckling softly. "Degenerate," he muttered, taking a gulp of his Energon.

"Oh, c'mon, don't be so stiff," Atomspark giggled, reaching over to roughly pat the slender mech next to him. "I'm just fragging with you, just like what you do with Star."

Solarburn nearly choked on his intake of Energon, but he expertly (and discreetly) spat it back into the cube. He turned to stare harshly at the smirking scientist next to him. "Stop, if you know what's good for you," he muttered.

"Or what?" Atomspark said, holding out his servos to his shoulders. "You gunna do some voodoo processor-trick on me?" His servos then lifted upwards, and waved quickly in the air. "Ooooo, I'm so scared."

"I will get you when you least expect it."

"Ooooo, I'm _horrified_."

The creaking of opening doors made the two mechs turn to stare at the doors towards the front of the room. The hulking figure of Sentinel Magnus entered the room, an arrogant swagger in his step, and his helm held high in said supercilious pride. Solarburn frowned, narrowing his optics at the sight, and Atomspark mimicked his actions.

"Ugh," the scientist mech muttered.

"I know," Solarburn said in return. "He stinks of bloated pride."

Sentinel glanced around, watching the room being prepared for the conference. He approached a group of mini-bots, roughly directing them to set up a table and some chairs for those who would be sitting in them. They quickly did what he wanted in fear of being yelled at by him anymore.

"I really hope Ultra Magnus gets back to his healthy self," Atomspark stated, rubbing at his chin.

"I may not have agreed with everything Ultra Magnus, but he sure is better than Sentinel Pri—oh, excuse me, Sentinel _Magnus_."

Atomspark smirked, staring at the mental health doctor with bright blue optics. "Well, we'll just have to deal with him," he said. "Speaking of which, I wonder how he's doing. And Blurr as well."

"Both are recovering at a steady pace—that is what I heard."

The two mechs were surprised when that unfamiliar voice filtered into their audio sensors, and when they turned, they met optics with a blue and white mech. He was drop-dead handsome with perfect posture and had the right amount of pride to portray himself as confident rather than arrogant.

"Forgive me, I could not help but to over-hear your conversation," the mech said, his face taking the one of worry.

"Oh, no, it is alright," Solarburn said. "We probably spoke too loud."

"And you are who?" Atomspark stated, turning his full body towards the mech. He had seemed rather familiar—had he seen this Autobot at a few councils?

"Forgive me," he said, placing a servo to his chassis and closed his optics, "allow me to introduce myself. I am Mirage."

The name clicked in both of their processors—Mirage, the one that seemed to pick on Cliffjumper's paranoia, the one that despised Ultra Magnus' proposal twelve million stellar-cycles about registering Decepticons, the one that utterly loathed Sentinel Prime and was not afraid to voice his opinions. Yes, Mirage, the ex-Towers mech. This was him.

Solarburn's face became one of reorganization. "Ah, yes, I have heard of you," he stated. "Everybot calls you a complainer and that you cannot go one solar-cycle without screaming your opinion."

Mirage chuckled. "I digress," he said, bowing his helm. "Not many like be because I don't go along."

"Eh, who could blame ya," Atomspark snickered. "What Ultra did in the past was a bit sketchy, and Sentinel's surely doing much, _much_ worse, eh?"

Mirage let out a displeased sigh as his servos went to rest behind him. "Ah, yes, Sentinel. We're all doomed," he sighed.

The trio chuckled.

"Do you know how Blurr and Ultra Magnus are doing?"

"Yes, I have been sent to watch over them."

"So," Solarburn began, "Blurr and Ultra are recovering?"

"Blurr faster than Ultra," Mirage answered. "The young mech is recovering at a steady pace. However, he is utterly berth-ridden, and requires daily services. Ultra is still in a coma, but his condition is unremitting."

"Well, alright then," Atomspark said, clasping his servos together in good-humor. "Then we can ol' Ultra Magnus once again, eh, Mirage?"

The blue and white mech offered the scientist a soft, sad smile. "Unfortunately, even if Ultra was to fully recover, it would be highly unlikely that he would return to being our Magnus," he said.

"Oh," Atomspark said, hanging his helm and frowning.

Solarburn took a drink from his cube. "I know this is completely off topic, but I might as well ask you," he said.

Mirage turned his attention to the slightly smaller Autobot. "Go on . . ."

"What do you think about having relations with the organic planet of Earth?"

Mirage blinked, and then shrugged his pointed shoulders. "I do not seem to mind," he answered.

"Oh?"

"Well, when Sentinel announced that organics were 'dangerous' and 'contaminated,' I felt the tendency _not_ to believe him," he stated. "Sentinel's always been one circuit short of a full processor, so I found it hard to believe that they are as dangerous as he said they were."

Atomspark laughed loudly. "Oh, mech," he said, playfully clasping a servo to Mirage's shoulder. "Best thing I heard all night. Sentinel—a circuit short of a full processor. _Heh_. Primus, can I use that?"

Mirage offered him a smile. "You cannot borrow my genius, because if you did, I wouldn't be able to create such witty remarks myself," he stated, a smile still brimming on his lips.

Solarburn snorted playfully, taking a sip from his cube. "I like you," he said, waving a digit at back and forth. "I like how you think."

"I like me and how I think, too—in fact, I _love_ me and how I think."

Atomspark roughly, but playfully patted Mirage on the shoulder, causing him to cringe from the force. "You and I need to hang out," he said, winking at him. "Say, you single, right?"

Solarburn's servo automatically came up, slapping the scientist upside the helm. "Have you any shame," he muttered. "Can you go one solar-cycle without flirting with somebot?"

Mirage awkwardly offered Atomspark a smile. "Sorry, but I'm not interested," he said, placing a hand to his chest. "But I am flattered."

The scientist chuckled, his servo dropping to his side. "Eh, not a problem," he said. "Then how about a cube between two mechs? Deal?"

"Sounds great," Mirage said, nodding his helm. "After the meeting?"

"Sure, I've got time."

"What about that mech you were talking to?" Solarburn said, finishing his Energon. "What about him?"

Atomspark blinked, and snapped his digits. "Don'tcha worry," he said with a coy smile. "I won't see him until tonight."

Solarburn rolled his optics, and shook his helm. "Degenerate," he muttered.

Mirage only chuckled. "Done," he said. "I haven't been able to have some free time for myself in a while. I would enjoy a drink with you, um, Atomspark, right?"

"Yes," the other mech stated.

Mirage turned to the other Autobot. "And Solarburn, correct?" he asked.

"That is correct."

The white and blue Autobot smiled sweetly, and clasped his servos together. "Excellent," he said. "Pleasure to make your acquaintances, and to have met you." He turned to Atomspark, and winked. "I expect you to keep your promise."

"Will do," Atomspark responded.

"_Mon chéri_, _moi_ love and Atomspark!"

A tall Autobot slipped towards the group, a cube in his servo, and he handed said cube to Atomspark. "Here jou go," he said.

"Alright!" Atomspark exclaimed, greedily taking the cube.

Starblaster lifted his helm, meeting optics with Mirage. "Oh, _bonjour_, who are jou?" he asked, wrapping an arm around Solarburn's lithe waist. The mech looked familiar—he had seen him before and such. But Ion and her crew normally did not go to council meetings, so he had not seen this mech often, but often enough to know his name.

"Mirage."

"Oh, _oui_, I know who jou are," Starblaster said, grinning, and waving a digit in the air. So he was Mirage. "_Oui_, _oui_."

Mirage grinned, optics hooded, and he straightened his form. "Yes, and you are . . .?"

"Starblaster."

"Oh, one of the flying Autobots."

"_Oui_! Say, how are the others?"

"Well, their configurations are near completion. Air Raid is the first one to try flight. From what I heard, he is a bit shaky at it, but he is trying."

"Good, good."

That was when a mini-bot approached the group, reaching out to lightly touch Mirage on his shoulder. "Mirage, sir," he called.

The slender mech turned to stare down at the mech. "Yes?" he asked.

"Sentinel Magnus wants you," he stated, thumbing over his shoulder.

Mirage sighed deeply and over-dramatically. He turned back to the group before him. "Excuse me," he said. "It was a pleasure talking to all of you." He then walked with the mini-bot.

"Hey, after the meeting?" Atomspark called.

Mirage grinned back. "Of course," he said, waving his servo in the air.

The tall blue and white mech followed the mini-bot, who was chatting away about what Sentinel had wanted him to do and whatnot. He didn't quite like being a secretary/lackey of the Council, but it was a good job, well, when he didn't have to run around _too_ much. He still had his wealth, his real estate—so, technically, he didn't _have_ to work, but he did. Mirage wasn't sure why, but he felt like he had to.

His optics strayed, and caught bright green, which caught him by surprise. He saw a hulking figure, handsome, and rugged—his old drill instructor from the first days when he became an Autobot. He had a bright smile on his face as he helped a femme lift a heavy metallic box, and rested it against his shoulder as he animatedly spoke with the femme at his side. Mirage just _stared_ at the mech; it had been so long since he had seen the mech. That Autobot turned up, as if guided by fate, and saw Mirage, staring at him with surprise. They were just staring at each other, and it felt like one of those clichéd moments from one of those cheesy romance novels. The slender blue and white Autobot turned his helm, suddenly finding interest in the mini-bot's chattering.

Mirage could still feel the stare of the mech's optics at the back of his helm, and only left a mild tingling sensation.


	14. Let the Council Begin

**Have an art-piece for you guys, it's called ":SOTE: My Imagination." It's on deviantART, if you want to see it.**

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><p>Let the Council Begin<p>

XIV

Optimus glanced around.

The place hadn't changed much—it had been stellar-cycles since he entered this building, and it looked exactly the same. Bumblebee glanced around, Sari perched perfectly on the yellow Autobot's shoulder, and took in the area. Autobots paused in what they were doing, and stared at the human, confused as to why Bumblebee wasn't getting hurt from her touch, and why she was even here. Some were disgusted, others interested—one mini-bot stepped forward, staring at the techno-organic with pure interest. Sari grinned sweetly, and waved her hand at him. He blinked his bright blue optics, and waved back at her with a grin. He then stepped away, returning to his friends animatedly, once in a while glancing at her. Sari leaned in towards her Autobot friend.

"Well, they seem less afraid of me."

Bumblebee turned to her, and smirked. "Well, they probably figure that since you're with me, and nothing's happening, then you're okay," he said, shrugging.

Sari blinked, and nodded. "Yeah, I guess," she said, nodding her head.

Jazz chuckled, leaning towards Sari, grinning widely. "They'll soon know dat ya humans are cool," he said. "Ya'll see."

The techno-organic smiled. "I hope so," she stated.

"I know so."

Sari chuckled against her hand. "Well, isn't that optimistic," she said, reaching up to brush away a lock of dark red hair.

"Dat's mah philosophy: thing's will get betta after th' bad has ended," Jazz said, giving a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders. "En't dat th' best way t' be?"

"Totally."

Ratchet glanced over to the young leader, who was taking in everything around him, and drumming his digits on his arms. He looked pensive, biting at the tip of his glossa, and optics narrowed—he was deep in thought.

"You alright, kid?" Ratchet said, placing a servo to the broad shoulder of the Prime.

Optimus turned, staring at the older mech with now open optics. "Oh, yeah, fine," he said quickly, "I'm just deep in thought."

Ratchet nodded knowingly, turning his helm to see Arcee and Bulkhead join Sari, Jazz, and Bumblebee, and talking amongst each other. "Yeah, I understand," he said, turning back to the Prime. There was a pause. "The council will be just fine, kid, just be you."

"I know," Optimus said, letting out a deep sigh.

"After all, you _are_ a hero."

"As are you," Optimus said, softly smiling.

"Yeah, well . . ." Ratchet grumbled, rubbing at his wrist mindlessly. "You kicked Megatron's can."

Optimus chuckled, placing a comforting servo to the old mech's shoulder. "And it nearly put me offline," he said, nodding his helm.

Ratchet let out a little huff, and nodded his helm slowly. "But, you did it," he said, placing his servos to his hips. "And I'm proud of ya, kid."

Optimus stared at the older mech, and couldn't help but to smile at him. "Thanks, Ratchet, that means a lot to me," he said softly.

Ratchet stared at him for a moment, arching an optic ridge. "Don'tcha start gettin' all sentimental on me," he grumbled out. "I don't need you to get all sappy all on me."

Optimus let out a laugh, and patted the medic's broad shoulder. "Sure thing, Ratchet," he said, his servo dropping to his side. "I promise I won't."

"Good."

The Prime turned his helm, noticing a table filled with cubes of warm Energon. Some scattered Autobots surrounded the area, taking said cubes to drink from waiters and waitresses. Optimus turned to the older mech, thumbing over his shoulder. "Would you like some Energon?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure," Ratchet stated, placing his servos to rest on his stomach. "Thanks, kid."

Optimus gave a curt nod, and shifted, turning his attention to his group of friends. "Hey, guys, would you like some Energon cubes?" he called, leaning back slightly to gain their awareness.

"You don't even have to ask," Bulkhead said with a large grin.

"That'd b' great, OP!" Jazz said, giving the Prime an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

The others chirped and chimed in, giving the Prime their approval.

Optimus smiled, and curtly nodded his helm. He turned to Ratchet. "Could you help me carry the cubes?" he asked nicely. "I don't have enough servos to carry all the cubes."

"Sure thing, kid," Ratchet said, flexing his digits mildly.

Optimus nodded, and both mechs approached the table where the cubes of Energon were resting. A mini-bot was already starting to clear said table, preparing to put everything away to make room for later. Optimus and the mech medic approached the table, and that was when a pretty femme with a green paintjob materialized at their side.

"Would you like some help?" she asked.

"Oh, no, we're fine," Optimus said politely.

Ratchet glanced over the cubes, and inhaled the scent that sprung forth from the liquid. It was high-grade Energon—the type that would make even the biggest and strongest of 'bots overcharged within a few glasses or cubes of it. He'd make sure that Bumblebee or Bulkhead would only have a single cube. It would be suicidal to allow them to have anymore. He shuttered at the thought of them acting like complete idiots in front of the entire Council.

"This is high-grade," he told Optimus. "Don't let Bumblebee and Bulkhead have any more than one cube."

Optimus chuckled, grabbing a cube carefully so he would not spill it. "Understood," he replied, his servo reaching over to grab another cube.

Ratchet grabbed a cube in one servo, and his optics flickered over, landing on a familiar blue and white paintjob. He paused, turning his full attention to the Autobot he remembered as Mirage having a verbal fight with Sentinel Magnus. The strong-chinned Magnus was waving his digit in the air, face twisted in anger, and sometimes would jab a thumb towards the direction of his chest. Mirage, meanwhile, stood there, face crunched up with seething annoyance, arms tightly crossed over his chest, and one of his pedes quickly tapping at the floor. Occasionally, Mirage would point a digit at Sentinel, and lean in closer towards the Magnus, as if to irritate him more. Ratchet could barely hear what was being said, because of the distance between the duo and Ratchet and Optimus, but he knew that it was not good.

"Hey, kid, look at this," Ratchet said.

Optimus turned to Ratchet, and then followed his gaze to see Sentinel Magnus violently jabbing his digit into somebot's chest, who then twitched and slapped said digit away, as if it were contaminated or something. The Prime let out a displeased sigh.

"Oh, _no_, Sentinel," he groaned. "Who is he yelling at this time?"

"That's Mirage," Ratchet answered.

Optimus did a double-take. "That is the Mirage you were talking about?" he asked in a whispered.

"Yep," Ratchet stated. "Looks like he don't like Sentinel either. Pfft, I haven't met a 'bot who does."

Optimus blinked, and then turned his helm to stare at Sentinel and Mirage. Mirage said something, held up his servos as if in defeat, and walked away. Sentinel, however, was highly displeased by the lack of respect, and said spoke to voice his opinion. It was so loud, the whole room could practically heard what he said:

"Don't you walk away from your Magnus, 'bot!"

Mirage whipped around, a smug look on his faceplates. "You are not my Magnus," he said lowly, and returned to walking away.

Sentinel growled, his engine roaring. "You have some nerve," he snarled around a half-yell. "You stupid Towers brat!"

Mirage rolled his optics at the drama, and then shook his helm. "I prefer Ultra over you," he muttered in a low voice. He glanced up, catching the optic-sight of Ratchet and Optimus (the old medic suddenly found interest in collecting Energon cubes), and the mech smiled. "Optimus Prime," he called, approaching the table, "it's an honor."

Optimus smiled, though his optic ridges were creased. "Hello, Mirage, right?" he asked.

"That is correct," Mirage answered once he became within a foot of the Prime. The Towers mech turned to Ratchet, and smiled. "Hello, doctor."

"Yeah, hello," the medic mumbled, collecting his third cube.

Mirage blinked, staring at the red and white Autobot for a moment before turning attention back up to Optimus, and then smiled. "Well, as I said, it is a pleasure to meet you," he stated, placing a servo to his chest. "I heard many good things about you and your team."

Optimus laughed shyly. "Oh, yeah, it was—it was nothing, really," he said with a mild shrug. "We were just doing what we did." He then frowned, hanging his helm. "But we did lose a great friend and warrior."

Mirage's smile faded from his face. "Yes, I heard you lost a friend," he said sullenly. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

It grew deathly silent. Ratchet's optics narrowed, a frown creasing his features, and Optimus looked completely sunk in sadness. His optics were hooded, his helm tipped forward slightly, and his face contorted with sorrow. Ratchet loudly cleared his throat, and whirled around, tightly holding his three cubes.

"C'mon, Prime, mopin' around over Prowl won't bring him back," he muttered, though there was a light tone of sadness in it.

Mirage perked up, his digits flexing and his form straightened. "Do you need help carrying those, doctor?" he asked.

"No, I can carry three slaggin' cubes," he answered sharply back. "I'm not a pile of scrap just yet." He stated to walk back to the others, all the while muttering things that only he could hear.

Mirage and Optimus stood there, watching the old medic before their gazes met, and the Prime let out a nervous laugh. "He's a little grumpy, but he's a nice 'bot, trust me," he said.

Mirage grinned. "If you say so," he stated, nodding his helm. "Um, by any chance, is the organic from Earth with you?"

"Sari? Yes, she's with us."

"Oh, good, I wish to see her, if that's okay. I'm a tad curious—that is all."

"By all means," Optimus said, a happy smile returning to his features. "Come, and you can meet the others too."

Mirage smiled, following obediently after the Prime as they rejoined the group. "Here you go," Optimus said, handing a cube to Bulkhead and Bumblebee. "Don't drink them too fast—they're high-grade."

"Alright," Bumblebee said, taking his cube, sniffing it, and then he took a long sip.

"High-grade?" Sari mused, turning up to somebot who could answer her.

"Um," Bulkhead said, his free servo scratching the back of his helm. "Like you humans have . . . um, alcohol, I think you call it."

"Oh," Sari chimed in. Her blue eyes flickered over, catching the gaze of an Autobot she had never seen. He regarded her with innocent interest. "Oh, hello. Who are you?"

"Mirage," Jazz quickly answered, giving the blue and white 'bot a delightful wave. "Been ah while."

"Yes, it has been a while," Mirage answered with a smile. "I just wanted to congratulate all of you for your capturing of Megatron, and see the organic." He moved closer to Bumblebee (who didn't like the close proximity of the other mech at all), staring at the techno-organic with a kind and honey-sweet smile. "Hello."

His voice sounded like the trickling of a calm river on a spring day. It was positively delightful to listen to, and Sari couldn't help but to smile. She moved from a sitting position on Bumblebee's shoulder to standing, and she gave a little wave.

"Hello."

His offered his digits, and she stared at them for a while. It took her about a few seconds to realize that he wanted her hand. "Oh," the techno-organic said, flustered, and she offered her hand to him.

He carefully took it, and placed a kiss to it without colliding with Bumblebee. _What a gentleman_, Sari thought quickly as the blue mech pulled away, and started to analyze her. _Or gentlebot, should I say_, she added in an afterthought.

Organics were smaller than he thought. She seemed to have no protective metal casing around them (the armor she did wear moved with her body and looked rather flimsy), a strange substance was on her helm, her paintjob was the colour of mud (he thought she had beautiful optics, though), which was rather strange, but it worked well with her, and her body-type was slender. Strange—they looked very similar to Cybertronians, but had their own flare. His processor reeled with thoughts about how other humans looked like.

"You're . . . smaller than I expected," Mirage offered, holding his index digit and thumb a few centimeters apart.

Sari could only laugh. "Compared to you guys, yeah, I guess we are," she said, leaning against the obviously peeved Bumblebee.

He smiled, and then turned to Bumblebee—finally acknowledging his existence. And, the Autobot did not seem pleased at all. "And you are Bumblebee, is that correct?"

"Yeah," the yellow Autobot said around a frown.

"Pleasure," Mirage said, offering his servo to the youngest of the group.

"Yep," Bumblebee said, just staring at the servo hanging limp in the air.

Mirage glanced between his servo, Bumblebee, his servo, and then back to Bumblebee. The Towers mech lowered his servo in an awkward fashion (Sari staring hard at her friend with confusion and mild anger), and quickly moved to Bulkhead, offering him a smile. "You are Bulkhead, is that correct?" he asked, and re-extended his servo. "Pleasure."

"That's right," Bulkhead said with a grin. "Nice to meetcha, buddy." His servo came down, gripping Mirage's in a vice grip, which caused the other mech to wince at the pain.

"Yes," Mirage said, pulling back to stare at his servo. He was relieved that it wasn't really damaged. He then approached Arcee, and offered her a dashing smile. "Hello, Arcee, right?"

"Yes," the pink Autobot femme said, flushing at the sight at this handsome mech. "Nice to meet you."

"I should be saying that," Mirage stated, reaching for her servo, and laid a tender kiss to its top.

Ratchet twitched, staring at the blue and white mech getting chummy with Arcee, which he did not like at all. He loudly cleared his throat, causing the femme and mech to glance up at him.

"Yes, yes, it was nice to meet you," Ratchet mumbled, taking a sip of his drink and optics shifting to the right.

Optimus gave the medic an odd look, and he glanced away. That was strange, well not _too_ strange because this _was_ Ratchet. However, the look Ratchet gave the blue and white mech was indeed bizarre. He could speak to him about that later, but not now.

Mirage stared at the older mech for a moment before stepping away from the pink femme. "Well, I believe I must go," he said, feeling out of place around the strange stares of Bumblebee and Ratchet.

"Must you?" Sari called.

"Yes, things to do," Mirage said, waving his servo in the air dismissively. "It was a pleasure to meet all of you. But I must leave." He nodded his helm. "Good day."

It was silent, and that was when Optimus turned to Bumblebee, just staring hard at him. "Why didn't you shake his servo?" he asked, optics narrowed.

Bumblebee twitched, fiddling with his thumb components.

"Yeah, what was with that, Bee?" Sari asked, placing her hands to her hips.

"What? He was getting chummy with my best friend," the yellow Autobot said, shrugging his shoulders. "You saw what he did."

"That is no excuse, Bumblebee," Optimus said, taking a sip from his cube. "He was just being nice."

"Being nice, my aft," the yellow Autobot said. "He was hitting on her—and Arcee. You're with me, right, Bulkhead?" He reached over, tapping the large Autobot on the chest with the back of his knuckles.

Bulkhead stayed silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Um, I liked him," he quickly said, taking a drink from his cube.

"Oh, c'mon. Ratchet, you with me?"

The medical 'bot grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Bumblebee threw up his arms, which then tightened around his chest. Arcee only smiled nervously.

"Well, I thought he was a complete gentlemech," she said. "Right, Sari?"

"Definitely," the techno-organic chimed in.

The pink femme leaned forward, trying to catch the grey face of the yellow Autobot. "And the next time somebot offers their servo to you, you shake it, you mech," she said, waving her digit in the air.

Bumblebee turned to her, optics wide, and he just stared at her, digesting everything that she said. He felt like she was his teacher and he was the student that she was chastising. He grumbled mildly, and turned from her. Optimus shook his helm, and took a sip from his cube. Sari, meanwhile, slapped her best friend upside the head, which caused him to whine. Something poked Optimus on the thick arm, causing the Prime to look down. Peacemaker was there, smiling awkwardly, and servos linked.

"Hello, Peacemaker," the Prime said.

"H-h-hello," the orange and tan mech replied, smiling sweetly.

"Oh, hey, Peace," Sari called, waving at the mini-bot.

He waved enthusiastically back, a quirky smile upon his lips. "T-the C-Council is beginning," he said, thumbing over his lofty shoulder. "Come." He skittered away, and then stopped, staring back at them, expecting them to follow.

"Oh," Optimus said, and then he turned to the others. "C'mon."

And they followed the mini-bot, after all, the Council was beginning.


	15. Let's Talk Civilly, Everybot

**Hey, there; been busy, well, searching for a job, that is. I go on Tuesday for an interview of sorts. Wish me luck!**

**Drew some art for this. Posted some on my dA account (Artistdragon), and going to finish the rest soon. Anyways, here is the new chapter. Enjoy.**

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><p>Let's Talk Civilly, Everybot<p>

XV

There were a lot of Autobots around. The main Council members sat in their respective seats—Alpha Trion, Botanica, Sentinel Magnus, Preceptor, and Wheeljack at his right. Nobot stood at the Cybertron Intelligence seat. Who would sit there? Other 'bots sat in seats that were offered to them—Mirage sat in one of those seats, staring idly at another mech, who did not seem to notice him. He was too busy talking to another mech animatedly. Sari stared upwards, and noticed the large black cameras that were mounted to the walls. This was being recorded.

Optimus, meanwhile, glanced at the other Autobots in the room. They had to have some sort of significance to the Council. Mechs and femmes alike sat in their seats, silently talking to each other. The Prime then noticed Ion, Atomspark, and Peacemaker. The awkward orange and tan mech waved at the Prime, gaining the attention of Ion and Atomspark, who then smiled at the Prime and his group. Two other mechs sat with them, and Optimus remembered well that he had never seen them before. One mech that had a thick blue visor waved at the Prime and his friends, while the green mech mildly nodded his helm, acknowledging them across the way.

"Who are they?" Bulkhead asked.

"I have no idea," Bumblebee answered, reclining in his seat. "They must know them."

"Friends?"

"Maybe."

The green mech then caught sight of the techno-organic, and stared. He cocked an optic ridge, drinking her in before reaching over and tapping the other mech on the broad shoulder, and whispered something to him, all the while pointing at the organic. Sari noticed that she was getting _a lot_ of stares from the Cybertronians in the room. She felt like shrinking up into a little ball from the weirdness of being stared at.

"They're all staring," Sari whispered, gripping her shoulders tightly.

"Of course," Bumblebee said, a smirk stretching across his lips. "You're such a hideous creature, that's why."

Sari let out a gasp, a playful smile on her face. "You take that back," she said, waving a finger at her best friend.

"Naw, I'm just speaking the truth," the yellow Autobot said with a shake of the helm.

The techno-organic slapped her friend playfully upside the helm, and he let out a chuckle. The other Autobots watched them interact, some interested while others namely curious. Sentinel watched them with crossed arms and a disgusted glare. That was when Alpha Trion cleared his throat, and then all grew silent.

"The Autobot High Council session will begin."

Optimus let out the sigh he was holding as Sentinel stepped forward, and watched as the new Magnus placed a servo to his large chest.

"We are here because Optimus Prime and his crew defeated the Decepticons—namely Megatron, Shockwave, Lugnut, and Blitzwing," he said slowly, and with a scowl on his face the whole time.

There were looks of approval upon their faces as they glanced down at the group below.

"Also," the Magnus sneered, "we are here because we Cybertronians became involved with an organic planet called Earth. Optimus Prime and his crew went missing because they landed on that planet."

The Magnus stepped down, and then Alpha Trion cleared his vocalizor. "Optimus Prime, may you please step forward," he said coolly.

The truck Autobot bowed his head, and closed his optics, trying to clear his mind for what he was about to say. He stepped away from his seat, and approached the middle of the room, arms at his side, and his stance proud. All optics were upon him.

"Optimus Prime," Alpha Trion stated, "may you please explain what happened a little less than thirty stellar-cycles ago."

"Well, sir, my crew and I were doing our job, and one of the Space Bridges we were cleaning came to life," he answered. "The Allspark came through, and we kept it. We contacted Ultra Magnus upon the situation, but Megatron and his ship found us, and attacked us." He paused for a moment, and then stared again: "We went through the portal, and landed on Earth, staying in stasis for fifty Earth stellar-cycles, and then we woke up."

"And what of Megatron," Alpha Trion breathed.

"He was blown to bits," Bumblebee quipped in.

Optimus slowly turned around, staring at the yellow Autobot with a worried expression, and the others in the room stared at the mini-bot. Bumblebee received a whack upside the helm from Ratchet and Sari in unison, and he let out a yelp in return.

"Blown to bits," Alpha Trion echoed, arching his digits.

"Um, yes," Optimus said. "There was an explosion, and we're not sure why, but there was. Anyways, we crash-landed on Earth, and Megatron was . . . 'blown to bits'." His servos made a circle motion with them, and then they returned to his side. "We landed in a lake . . . Lake Eerie, I believe is what the lake is called. And that is when a human by the name of Isaac Sumdac found Megatron's parts, thus building his own line of robotics on his planet."

"I see," Alpha Trion said. "He had no idea who Megatron was."

"That is correct, sir."

"And who is this Isaac Sumdac? Is that Isaac Sumdac?"

He pointed to the techno-organic near Bumblebee, and she looked at him, her eyes wide and her lips closed. She couldn't help but to let out a laugh and shake her head. Automatically seeing this as disrespect, Sentinel stepped forward.

"Organic, you mind—"

"No, no, it is okay," Alpha Trion said, a tiny smile on his faceplates. "Then I assume you are not Isaac Sumdac."

The techno-organic caught her breath, placing her hand to her stomach, and waved down her hand. "No, no, I'm Sari Sumdac, Isaac Sumdac's daughter," she said. "You were close, but not that close, sir."

"I see," Alpha Trion said. "And what is a 'daughter'?"

"Um, you see, sir," Optimus Prime began, "humans have very complex familial structures than we do. Isaac Sumdac is her father—her 'creator' in a way."

"Hmmm, interesting," the red Autobot, the Preceptor said.

"How complex?" Wheeljack asked, leaning against the table he stood sat behind.

"We'll get into that later, Wheeljack," Alpha Trion breathed slowly. "But for now, let's continue with the topic at servo." He turned back to the young Prime. "So, you lived on this planet for how long?"

"While we were awake?"

"That is correct."

"Um, I believe seven Earth orbital-cycles," Optimus answered, his face creased with thought. "While we lived there, we learned a lot of interesting things about humans. We are very similar to them in a lot of ways."

Sentinel let out a brute scoff. "Oh, please," he said with a wave of the servo. "These filthy organics can't even compare to us, Optimus."

The blue truck felt the urge to roll his optics, but remained steadfast in staring the Magnus down. "Sentinel—"

"That's Magnus to you, Optimus."

Ratchet grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest-plate. "Now you listen 'ere, _Magnus_," the old mech snorted, "we've been on Earth fer seven Earth orbital-cycles, an' nothin' has happened to us. We're not rottin', or rusted, or any of the other lies you've told the public—"

"I'm not lying, old mech," Sentinel said around a snarl, his digits gripping the sides of his desk. "So you just watch your place while you're talking to me."

"That's enough, Sentinel," the Prime said in a loud voice.

"I'm Magnus to you!"

"Enough," Alpha Trion stated in a loud, but even tone of voice.

The group glanced up, and Optimus and Sentinel shared an icy stare before turning away from each other. The eldest mech locked his digits together, just staring at his new Magnus and the Prime below. "We will not fight today," he said. "This meeting is to better understand the predicament we are in with planet Earth." He shifted in his seat, staring at the techno-organic sitting on Bumblebee's shoulder. "But I do question what you have been saying, Sentinel Magnus. If organics are as dangerous as you say they are, why haven't anything happened to them?"

"Yes, Magnus, sir," Mirage called from his seat, a devilish grin on his faceplates as his sleek white digits locked together. "Why hasn't anything happened to them?"

Sentinel opened his mouth to speak, but then his strong jaw clamped shut before turning away. He was unsure as to what to say. He wanted to say something to shut that smug little blue and white spy up, and his digits rapped against his desk in loathing and impatience. Voices amongst the crowd filled his audio sensors. Optimus then cleared his throat against his fist.

"Alpha Trion, sir," the Prime called, giving his servo a little wave. "Perhaps I can say something?"

"Yes, go on."

"Sentinel Magnus isn't completely wrong, sir."

Most looked to the Prime in surprise.

"To be fair, the organics in Archa Seven are dangerous," Optimus continued. "I recommend that nobot should go there. Ever." The Prime hung his helm at the thought of losing Elita-1, and a frown creased his face.

Sentinel looked away, his lip components pursed, and his optics narrowed.

"We'll note that," Botanica said, resting her servo on her slender arm. "So, organics on that planet _are_ dangerous."

"That is correct, ma'am. And they're big, too. They can over-power a Cybertronian easily."

Alpha Trion nodded his helm slowly.

"Back to the original discussion," Preceptor said blankly. "What were the conditions when you captured Megatron?"

"Well, as you may or may not know, Megatron created his own weapons of mass destruction," Optimus said.

"Lugnut Supreme," Preceptor stated.

"Correct," Optimus said. "And the humans in Detroit are not really happy, because . . . well, the Supremes destroyed a very good portion of their city."

"Yeah, I mean, we've accidently destroyed their city before, but now they're really mad," Bulkhead said meekly.

"How mad is mad?" Botanica asked.

"Well, most of Earth has decided that you are the threat and you want to take us over," Sari answered with a curt nod.

Sentinel scoffed. "Please, like we would do that," he said, shaking his helm from side to side.

"Well, dat's what's happenin' on th' planet," Jazz stated. "They're flippin' their lids over us."

"I think the activity with the Decepticons has spooked them," Arcee said, her servos grasping the other. "We Autobots don't mean harm, but they don't know that. We have to tell them that we won't hurt them."

"She's right," Ratchet said, thumbing over his shoulder. "Th' last thing we need is another war."

Alpha Trion stared at the pink Autobot femme for a moment, and slowly blinked his eyes. "Are you . . . Arcee?" he asked softly.

The femme turned to the oldest mech in the room, staring at him. "Yes," she answered.

He _thought_ she had looked familiar. This was the femme that went into stasis during the war. "Ah," he said, slowly bobbing his helm. "I thought so." He turned to the Prime. "So, the humans are worried about us?"

"Yes, sir," Optimus responded.

"Well, that is something that we don't want," he said, turning to Preceptor. "Isn't that right, Preceptor?"

"Having another war after capturing Megatron and a few high-ranking Decepticon soldiers would be highly irrational and illogical," he said. "That is the last thing that should happen. We must ensure the human population that we do not mean any harm to them."

Sentinel was about to object, but then closed his mouth, remembering _his_ reason to return to that planet. "Alpha Trion, Preceptor," he called. "Also, as you know, the Allspark practically exploded thanks to a certain somebot—" He shot a glare to Optimus. "—I presume we also find the last bit of shards of the Allspark so we can restore it to normal."

Sari twitched, staring at the Magnus with wide blue eyes. Her dream came back to her like a gust of wind:

"_It is about the Allspark fragments."_

"_What about them?"_

"_Sentinel wants to use them."_

"_For what?" _

"_To kill Megatron. He wants to abuse the power of the Allspark in killing Megatron. I feel he might go back to Detroit to retrieve as many as he can."_

Sari shivered, gripping her arms as she stared out into the distance. Now, edging at the back of her mind, she was beginning to doubt that it was all a dream. Bumblebee turned to her, arching his optic ridge to her.

"You okay?" he asked, worry in his tone.

Her bright blue eyes turned to stare at her best friend. "Yeah, I'm fine," she quickly answered.

This was getting rather freaky, if she said so herself.

"That would be good," Perceptor said. "We must restore the Allspark to its former self. We cannot allow shards to be scattered amongst their planet. There may be harm if the shards stay on their planet."

"Have any of the shards of the Allspark done anything to their planet?" Wheeljack called.

"Um, caused some malfunctions wit' their technologies," Jazz answered before Optimus could. "We had t' stop a train from goin' crazy."

"And it caused a large amount of artificial intelligent robotics to go haywire," Optimus added. "But we have tried to collect as many as we could. We're still looking."

Alpha Trion nodded his helm slowly. Optimus then shuffled, reaching up with his servo to rub tenderly at his neck components. "And, there is something else," he said.

"Yes?"

Optimus turned to Sari, and gave her a look. The look. _We_ _have to tell them. _The techno-organic nodded her head slowly, pulled herself from her best friend (it was difficult for her to sit on Bumblebee's shoulder since she upgraded herself), and approached Optimus, who had his servos out to her to sit on.

"It has to do with Sari."

"Yes?" Alpha Trion said, staring at the interactions between the human and the Cybertronian Prime.

Optimus sighed, his processor reeling about what he should say and how he should say it.

"We don't have all solar-cycle, Optimus," Sentinel chimed in with an overly-sickening sweet sing-song voice.

Optimus shot him a little glare before clearing his throat. "Sari, she's . . . um, part Cybertronian," he said, gritting his dentals.

There, of course, was obvious chatter of surprise in the room. Voices washed over the crowd like the morning tide at a beach. Mirage shifted in his seat, optic ridges raised and his white digits fiddled with a stray stylus. Wheeljack leaned in, drinking in the human's appearance, obviously trying to figure out how she was part Cybertronian. Ion and her group were completely befuddled, and Alpha Trion had his optic ridges knitted and his mouth was pressed in a straight line.

Sentinel let out a short laugh. "Oh, _please_, Optimus," the Magnus said. "How on Cybertron can that organic be part Cybertronian? That's not possible."

"Well, it's not," Sari snapped back, crossing her arms across her chest. "I am part Cybertronian."

"How?" Botanica called. "I would like to know, if it is true."

"It is true, I assure you," Optimus said, stepping forward. "Back during the War, the Decepticons took protoforms from—"

"The Dojo," Alpha Trion finished. "I remember that raid." He turned to stare at the techno-organic. "She is one of the protoforms."

"Correct."

"How did she get on Earth?"

"W-we don't know ourselves," Optimus stated. "All we know is that she was there, her father—Isaac Sumdac—had no idea what was in his laboratory, and he touched the protoform, thus creating Sari. Ever since then, he took care of her."

Perceptor just stared at her. He didn't stare at Optimus, he didn't stare at the others behind them—he was staring at her. And with those soulless optics, it was creepy. Sari felt strange under his dead stare. She crossed her legs, and turned her head away. However, she could feel his optics bore into the side of her head.

"Sari, may I?" Alpha Trion called, offering his servo palm-upwards.

He wanted to see her, she supposed.

"Oh, yeah," she said, and she felt Optimus move closer towards the pillar where Alpha Trion sat behind.

The Prime lifted her up, and Alpha Trion reached down, scooping up the little human into his servos. The Autobots watched with bated breath—well, if they had breath to breathe. Nothing happened to the old mech. No fluids were spilling out of him, he wasn't rusting, or leaking Energon, or dying. He was fine.

"Huh, would you look at that, Magnus," Mirage said as he watched Sari completely settle in Alpha Trion's palms. "You were wrong about organics."

Sentinel turned to Mirage, giving him a sharp death-glare. Mirage, however, was unfazed. He smiled sweetly, servos under his chin, and his optics were narrowed dangerously. The Magnus was about to speak, but bit his glossa, holding back. Slag, did he feel stupid. Others spoke with each other softly, all the while staring at Sari. Mirage's optics turned from Sentinel, and stared at the green mech, who finally noticed him. The burly mech was smiling widely at him, and happily waved his servo to the blue and white mech. Mirage felt a rush in his spark, and waved back.

Meanwhile, Alpha Trion pulled her upwards, placing her on his podium, and stared. Sari shifted in her place as she felt the optics of the Council on her. The old mech reached out, servo palm up, and offered her a smile.

"Well?"

Sari gave a nod of her head, and held out her nimble hands. With a quick flick of her fingers, her flesh parted, showing the technical wonders beneath her flesh. Alpha Trion placed his digit under her hands, and lifted it upwards, and just stared at the circuitry. The Council, besides Perceptor, stared at her with curious disbelief.

"Unbelievable," Alpha Trion mused softly.

Wheeljack leaned in, staring hard at the techno-organic. "Would you look at that," he said loudly. "That's Cybertronian! Yep! She wasn't lying to us."

"What?" Sentinel snarled. "That's just ridiculous." He stomped his way over, pushing past Wheeljack and Perceptor to stare at Sari's small hands. He noticed the circuitry and the thin wires that allowed her hands to move and flex. He narrowed his optics, and stared hard. "How is this even possible?"

"Because I'm part Cybertronian," Sari muttered, narrowing her bright florescent blue eyes at the Magnus. "That's how."

Sentinel narrowed his optics right back at her, and snarled. "Watch yourself, _organic_," he hissed.

"Sentinel Magnus," Alpha Trion began, raising his servo in the air, "let's not fight."

Sentinel stared at the oldest Autobot in the room, and then turned back to Optimus and his group, who were all giving him soft, yet harsh glares. The Magnus straightened his form, and tucked his servos behind his back.

"It doesn't matter," he said, "she's still part organic."

"It is most curious," Perceptor said, stooping down as he moved a digit to place right under her hand, and he stared, "what is interesting about this is that how did a Cybertronian Protoform on Megatron's ship end up on Earth?"

"We are still unsure ourselves," Sari stated softly.

"And it is interesting how effortlessly Cybertronian technology merged with organic materials," Perceptor stated in a deep monotone. "How interesting."

Sari was silent.

"I would like to know more," the emotionally-dead scientist said, "and how it works still."

Sari pulled herself away, staring up at the Autobot with knitted brows and tight lips. Alpha Trion placed a protective servo behind the human's back, and curled his digits around her lithe form. The old mech stared at the scientist with a calm expression, and Wheeljack placed a servo to the red and grey Autobot's shoulder.

"If she so chooses to allow you to test her," the old Autobot said, cupping her and offering back to the Prime before him. "But for now, leave her be."

Test her? Test her like a lab rat? Now it was official: the creepy Autobot with the yellow glasses and the emotionless voice freaked her out. Wheeljack spoke softly to the Perceptor, and the obstructions on the sides of his face lit up as he spoke. Sari rested against the Prime, and that is when she caught sight of Mirage, who offered her a worried smile and a shrug of the shoulders. She could only think that she meant that he was sorry for the actions of Perceptor. She nodded her head, and stepped onto the table near Bumblebee and Arcee as the Prime pulled away. Optimus then turned, and cleared his throat against a fist.

"So, as you can all see, not all organics are as dangerous as you have been told," Optimus said. "Earth organics are safe to us, and possible other alien organic life. But, as of now, Earth organics are safe to us."

Murmurs rose up from those who filled the room.

"Yeah, so what?" Sentinel snapped, breaking the calm chit-chat that filled the room. "As Cybertronians, we should stay away from inferior species and—"

"Say what?" Sari snapped as Bumblebee stood up from his seat behind her. "Now we're an inferior species?"

"Take that back," Bumblebee hissed.

"Low blow, Magnus, sir," Jazz said, crossing his arms and shook his helm slowly from side to side. By his side, Arcee looked utterly shameful and bashful by the remark, Bulkhead had his thick arms crossed and stared at the Magnus, and Ratchet let out a low, gruff growl.

"Whoa, whoa, Sentinel—" Optimus began, frowning sternly.

"That's Magnus to you, Prime!"

"Silence!" Alpha Trion shouted.

His voice rang through the room—bouncing off the walls, the flooring, and the ceiling—and echoed for several long moments. It was now deathly silent, albeit the mild chuckling of Mirage (he "tried" to silence himself with his digits covering his lips). He then regained his composure, and laced his digits on his desk.

"All those who propose that we thank the humans and then visit Earth to study and learn more about them raise their servos," he said.

Almost everybot raised their servos. Sentinel glanced around the room, and then turned to the old mech. "What are you doing?" he snarled the question.

Alpha Trion completely ignored the question.

"Now, who propose that we thank Earth for their help in the defeat of the Decepticons, and then leave them alone?" he asked.

A few servos lifted skyward.

"Majority overrides minority," he said. "We are going to learn more about Earth."

"What?" Sentinel snapped. "You can't do that!"

"Majority always overrides minority, even if the Magnus is in the minority," Alpha Trion stated calmly, however, his optics were narrowed into optic icy shards. "It's written down in the Database of Laws. _Every_ Magnus knows that."

A few snickers erupted from the audience, and when Sentinel turned around to glare at them, they went silent at once. Sari placed her hands to her hips, and stared at the Magnus with a confident sleek grin. Her large golden Autobot friend snickered to himself as he leaned in towards the techno-organic.

"Somebot just got owned," he whispered.

"Totally," she whispered back with a grin.

Alpha Trion turned to Optimus, who smiled lightly up at him. "Optimus Prime," he called.

"Yes, sir?"

"You are to return to Earth and state that we come in peace."

"Yes, sir."

"You are also to state that we wish to get to know them better."

"Yes, sir."

"Wait," Sentinel snarled, gritting his dentals and gripping his servos into fists.

Alpha Trion and Optimus looked directly at him. "Yes?" the old mech called.

"I am still Magnus, I give the orders around here," he snarled as he turned to his once-friend. "Optimus, do what Alpha Trion told you." He added that with a lazy flick of the wrist.

"Yes, Magnus."

"And who are the bolt-buckets that were assigned to go to Earth?"

Starblaster shot his servo in the air and flailed it around in a wild fashion. "Here!" he called in his cotton smooth voice.

Peacemaker watched the still floor in silence, Ion frowned at the Magnus, Solarburn was rubbing his face in circles, and Atomspark was half-sparkedly cat-calling to some femme in the background. Starblaster was the only one that looked energetic and happy to be called upon. Sentinel rolled his optics at the strangely eccentric Autobot.

"You will go to Earth with Optimus and his crew. Get ready and prepare to leave two solar-cycles from now."

"_Oui!_"

"And where is Neon?" Alpha Trion called subtly.

An Autobot far in the background waved his servo in the air, and stood up from his chair. He was a slender mech with long doorwings that stuck out from his back. He was a pale green with white stripes and mild bright pink running along his sides. On each side of him were femmes and both were exact opposites of each other—it was night and day between the two of them. One femme was slender and extremely feminine with grey and white paintjob and the other was a hulking, Amazon-like femme with a bright red paintjob with black markings. He looked meek, like a young doe in a field. However, there was a mild determination that danced across his slender face and build.

"Yes, sir," the mech called.

"When was the last time you've been on an organic planet?"

"Um, a million or so stellar-cycles."

"Would you like to return to an organic planet?"

The mech named Neon was practically bouncing in place and was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Yes, I would!" he said in a loud voice.

"Well, if the humans allow us on their planet, it is your job to collect other scientists that would like to visit and study Earth," Alpha Trion said with a smile.

Neon stared at the older mech for a while. It was like he was trying to absorb the information that was given to him. He let out a cheerful shout as he threw his arms into the air. He was also screaming about how "this was the greatest solar-cycle of his entire function." Alpha Trion smiled lightly at the scene, and then turned to Optimus Prime.

"I would like you to devise a speech to explain to the public what you have told us today," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"Be prepared to speak tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, session dismissed."

* * *

><p><strong>Hey, Alpha, since you're going to take over Sentinel like a boss, you should just become Magnus. You'd be a bitching Magnus.<strong>

**Dragon out.**


	16. Mission: Earth

**Hello! :D Missed me?**

* * *

><p>Mission: Earth<p>

XVI

"Optimus Prime, what an excellent display and speech you gave."

The Prime turned to see Mirage, who stood tall and proud with one servo by his chest and the other behind his back. He shifted, causing the wheels that were lodged in his back to turn with the movement. The tall mech chuckled humbly. The crowd was dispersing, while others collected their things—tablets, styluses, and whatnot—and started to filter from the room. Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Arcee, Jazz, and Sari were separated from the Prime, and talking to a group of curious scientists observing the techno-organic with relish. Ratchet was off on his own, most likely retrieving a cube of Energon or a cup of oil.

"Well, thank you, Mirage," he said.

The blue and white mech beamed. "Well, it's always nice to see Sentinel Magnus get put into his place every once in a while," he remarked sullenly and under his breath (if he had any). He then glanced up and clasped his servos together. "I have no idea why they picked him."

"And they . . . ?"

"Um, mostly the Perceptor."

"Oh."

Mirage cleared his throat, cables twitching, and grinned sweetly. "Well, I'm just a civilian—I can't control what happens in the higher level of things," he said with a mild shrug. "I'm just a run-about mech—the messenger."

Prime was silent and stared at him for a moment. Even though he had no idea that this mech was once a snooty high-class mech from the Towers—that he disliked Ultra Magnus' rhetoric, and he, even when he was an Autobot, spoke out against _every single thing_ the old Magnus did, he had to agree with this well-mannered talker: Sentinel was not fit to be Magnus. Emotions—namely anger—ran him like a hamster in a wheel. He meant well, though . . .

"Well, I hope it goes well for you."

Optimus snapped his helm up. "What?" he asked, blinking his optics.

"I said: I hope it goes well for you," Mirage repeated. "On Earth. I hope you calm the storm on that planet."

"Oh, yes, well, thank you."

"Of course, of course," Mirage said with a grin. His optics snapped up, and noticed the green mech he had been watching this whole time near the other scientists. He was speaking with Sari, probably asking every question under the sun about her, her race, and Earth. He stared, and then turned up Optimus. "Excuse me—I wish you well."

And with that, he walked off towards the growing group of Autobots. Optimus watched him for a moment, and then let out a ghost of a sigh between parted lip components. He was a strange, yet extremely altruistic mech—he was the Council's message lackey. Interesting to say the least; he sure wasn't afraid to talk to somebot or someone.

"Oi, Prime, hey!"

The Prime turned, smiling when Atomspark jogged up to him. The silver and grey mech grinned widely, and straightened his limp form.

"Great session, mech," he said, reaching across to pat the Prime on his broad shoulder. "Guess me and my posse will be accompanying you to Earth."

Optimus nodded, smiling at the engineer. "Well, thank you," he said. "And it would be great to have you with us."

"Awesome!"

"Hey, Atomspark, are you annoying Prime? You had better not."

Both mechs turned, noticing the slender teal and white femme approaching them with a lithe, confident stride. Her teal lips twitched into a frown, and she crossed her arms over her chest plate. Atomspark grinned, and wrapped his arm around the Prime's shoulder (_tried_, Optimus was taller than him).

"Naw, I en't annoying him, am I, Optimus?"

"No, he isn't," Optimus said with a smile.

* * *

><p>Mirage slicked his way through the crowd—getting close enough to where he could be within optic-shot of the green burly mech. However, he was preoccupied at the moment. Mirage's supple form eased from the crowd, and gained enough personal space to cock his hips to the side, and shift his arms to rest at chest-level. The green mech spoke with sparkling-like awe, and asked quick, innocent questions laced with amped curiosity.<p>

"What is Earth like? Is it colourful and diverse?"

"Oh, very diverse and very colourful," Sari answered with a grin.

"And you should check out the cities on Earth," Bumblebee quickly stated. "They're almost like the ones here! And the sports and the race tracks—"

The green mech gave a nervous grin. "Not much into the sports and race tracks," he said with furrowed optic ridges.

"What? Aw, man, you crazy!"

"'Man'?" mimicked an Autobot.

"Um, a figural term, like 'mech' for you guys," Sari quickly answered with a flick of her wrist. They seemed to understand. She turned back to the thickly bodied green mech, and giggled. "It looks like you're wearing a beret."

He blinked. "What is that?" he inquired, reaching up to touch the metal obstruction upon his helm.

"A type of hat human soldiers wear," Bulkhead answered. "And you're right, Sari, it does look like he's wearing one." He laughed softly, yet deeply. "Were you a soldier?"

The green mech frowned. "Once upon a time," he muttered, though a smile splashed onto his lips.

"You still are, Hound, even if it is a desk job."

Hound glanced up, catching optics with the blue mech, and he smiled widely.

"Hey, Raj."

* * *

><p>"I don't believe we met officially; I am Solarburn."<p>

Optimus reached across, grabbing the slender servo into his larger, thicker one. "Pleased to meet you," he said.

The green mech with the burning orange optics mildly smiled at the Prime, and once they had finished shaking, his servo dropped obediently to his side. A taller mech stood next to him, and he had a large grin plastered on his face.

"_Bonjour_, I am Starblaster," he said, playfully grabbing the Prime's servo and shook it readily. "Bondmate to Solarburn, _oui_."

Optimus smiled, though it felt like his entire arm was going on a joyride from the enthusiastic servo-shake. "Pleased to meet you too," he said to the flying Autobot.

Starblaster released Optimus' servo, and grinned.

"We just wanted to congratulate you on your daring mission to capture Megatron," Solarburn said, a smile still twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, thank you, but it was not only me—it was the others too."

"Of course, of course. And we're also sorry for your loss. Prowl was his name, right?"

Optimus' optic ridges furrowed, and he gave a shallow nod. "Yes, yes that was his name," he said in a low tone. "And thank you." He lifted his helm. "When is the funeral? I've been getting all sorts of different answers."

The group exchanged looks amongst each other.

"We are unsure," Starblaster said, his glossa heavy in his mouth.

"Things are very hectic around here if you haven't noticed," Atomspark said, gritting his dentals and placed his servos to his slender hips. "It may be a while. But you can always ask one of the High Council members. I bet they have something worked out."

"Okay."

"You know, Prime, you can always talk to me if you need to," Solarburn said. "I am a very good psychiatrist. If you need to talk, you can always see me."

Optimus smiled at the kind offer. "Thank you, that means a lot," he said.

"Oh, _please_, Solar," Atomspark ho-hummed. "You're not going to pick his processor apart."

"I am very good at what I do."

"Yes, guessing at people's emotions—well done."

Ion slapped her servo to her faceplates, and groaned deeply. "Oh, Primus, not this," she muttered sourly as Peacemaker glanced up nervously at her.

"I do not guess; I come to rational conclusions based upon visual facts and how they feel about certain things."

"Guessing!"

"At least I have a doctorate!"

"_How dare you!_"

"Alright," Optimus said loudly, feeling uncomfortable between the two fighting mechs. He then clasped his servos together. "Well, are all of you ready to go to Earth?"

"Well, I have to cancel more appointments," Solarburn hissed, narrowing his optics. "I don't like doing that to my patients. But I guess I can refer them to my old teacher, Rung. I assume he won't mind." He glanced up. "But I would like to learn more about Earthlings."

"_Oui_, _oui_, where is the zechno-organic?" Starblaster asked, bouncing on his pedes. "I would like to see her."

"She's behind me," Optimus said, thumbing over his broad shoulder. He glanced, still seeing the large crowd that had not dispersed in the slightest. "Somewhere in there."

"We'll find her," Starblaster said with a grin as he gently grabbed Solarburn's thin arm. "Thank jou!"

"G-goodbye!" Solarburn quickly threw out before his lover tugged him away.

* * *

><p>"Raj, it's been a while," Hound said, suddenly forgetting everything around him as he approached his old friend.<p>

The blue mech smiled softly, and let out a ghost of a chuckle from parted lips. "Yes, an orbital-cycle," Mirage stated, optics half-open in laziness. "Work demanding?"

"Yeah," Hound laughed.

"Well, it's good to see you."

Hound grinned, and before Mirage could even blink, the thick green mech scooped the slender blue and white one into a tight hug. Mirage let out a surprised gasp, but returned the hug nonetheless.

"It's good to see you too, Mirage."

The two stood there for a moment, hugging each other, and the scientists lost interest in the duo and resumed their attention to the techno-organic, returning to thrusting questions at her. Mirage and Hound spoke to each other as they pulled apart from their warm, friendly embrace, and they were pulling away from the group to be alone. They stood close together, but not close like lovers would be—however, they were close even for friendship standards. Mirage watched Hound with all the attention he could muster and Hound spoke animatedly, using his entire body to speak. And Arcee watched with full-fledged interest.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Solarburn said loudly, but not in a threatening way. "Give the human and her friends some space."

Starblaster yelped as he squeezed through the thick crowd. "_Oui_, _oui_, please leave, fellow scientists," he said. "Jou are crowding!"

"Go, go, go," Solarburn muttered, swishing his servo in the air dismissively.

The scientists all groaned and muttered in anger as they started to dissipate from the area. Bulkhead let out a sigh.

"Thanks, they were getting a little close," the large Autobot said, placing his large servo to his rounded chest. "I was afraid that I might step on one."

Starblaster laughed. "Jou are funny," he said, waving a digit in the air. "I like funny. I am Starblaster, and this is my bondmate, Solarburn."

Solarburn gave them a polite nod.

Arcee smiled warmly. "Yes, aren't you returning to Earth with us?" she asked.

"_Oui_," Starblaster said with a grin.

"Oh, you'll love Earth. It is very interesting."

"Really?" Solarburn asked, arching an optic brow.

"You'll love it!" Bumblebee exclaimed, grinning.

"Earth is pretty neat," Bulkhead said with a smile.

Jazz nodded his helm along. "But I do hope we cool th' humans' jets 'bout us," he said, shifting on his pedes. "I don't wanna git kicked off their planet."

Solarburn arched an optic ridge. "Are they really that upset over us?" he inquired, placing his knuckles against his chin.

"Oh, yes," Arcee said solemnly. "They are afraid that we're going to take over their planet."

"And possibly make slaves outta them," Bumblebee added.

"Hmm, makes sense," the slender pale green Autobot stated. "We are afraid of what we can't understand. It only makes sense. Why, not too long ago, I was afraid of organics." He turned to stare at Sari, a small frown on his lip components. "Now that I know that they are harmless, I feel the fear that was within me is gone. And you are Sari, correct?"

"Yes," the techno-organic stated with a smile.

Starblaster leaned in, drinking her in. "Jou are very tiny," he said simply. "But cute." He smiled. "Are all organics on jour planet like that?"

"We're all different, but we're small compared to your kind," Sari chuckled.

"But organics called dinosaurs were bigger than us," Bulkhead said, making his servos in a broad movement to convey his meaning.

"Really?" Starblaster asked, awe spread across his faceplates.

"Yeah, but they died millions of years ago," Sari said. "But we have their bones left. Perhaps you can see them sometime."

"Oi, I would love that, _oui_."

Solarburn stared at his lover, and playfully shook his helm as he gave his lover a simple pat to the chest plate. Jazz then spoke: "Say, do any of ya cool cats know anything 'bout Cliffjumper and his trial?"

Starblaster and Solarburn stared at the Cyber-Ninja for a moment, then looked at each other, and turned back to Jazz with a frown.

"Forgive us, but we have no idea," Solarburn said softly.

"The last I heard, he was still being locked up," Starblaster replied, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. "His trial . . . we do not know."

"We're sorry," Solarburn added swiftly.

Jazz shook his helm, and waved down his servo. "Naw, it's okay," he said.

Arcee placed a servo to his shoulder. "We're just worried," she stated. Being accused of attempted murder was horrid. Even though she had never met the 'bot before, something inside told her that he was innocent. And hearing what had happened to him from others only confirmed that he was indeed not guilty. "That's all."

"Worried 'bout what?"

That was when Ratchet appeared. Scruffy as always—nothing new. In each of his servos, he held a cube, and one he quickly gave to Arcee.

"Hey, none for us?" Bumblebee whined.

"No," Ratchet said, taking a sip from his cube. "Get it yourselves."

"Aw," Bulkhead sighed.

The old medic turned, staring at the flying Autobot and his lover with an incurious stare. "And who are you?" he asked roughly.

"I am Solarburn, and this is my bondmate Starblaster," the green Autobot said. "We will accompany you to Earth."

"Ah, right."

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Hfmmp."

Starblaster and Solarburn gave each other a fleeting glance before the accented Autobot cleared his throat tubes. "Well, we will be going," he said, reaching over to lovingly grab Solarburn's slender servo.

"Yes, things to do, stuff to pack," Solarburn said, shrugging his lofty shoulders. He then smiled softly, but his optics were still half-open, as always. "Goodbye."

"_Au revoir!_" Starblaster stated, waving his servo gleefully.

The two walked away, speaking softly to each other. Bumblebee watched them go, and let out a huff from his rumbling engine.

"Ol' greeny seems pompous," the yellow Autobot said, thumbing over his shoulder.

"Maybe that's how he is," Sari whispered.

"Well,_ I_ think they're very sweet," Arcee said, nodding her helm curtly. She then gave a gentle shove to the older mech at her side. "You could've been a little nicer."

Ratchet arched an optic ridge to her, surprised that she even mentioned his attitude. "Wasn't I?" he asked, taking a sip from his cube.

"Not really," she said in a low, almost motherly tone. "You should be nicer to people. Having such a negative attitude towards anybot isn't healthy."

Bulkhead, Sari, and Bumblebee chuckled softly, and all the while they stared at the old mech. Ratchet growled, narrowing his optics at the trio mocking him (Jazz was the smart one—he didn't laugh; only grin like an idiot).

"Ah, shut up," Ratchet grumbled, gripping his cube.

He met optic-sight with Arcee, who was frowning at him, and her arms were crossed tightly over her chest. He stared at her, then he let out a thick engine groan, and turned to the trio, who now had grown silent.

"Sorry," he grunted out.

Bulkhead, Sari, and Bumblebee looked at each other, and snickered lightly.


	17. The Slammer

**Hey. :) Well, I have a job, and that might interfere a bit with the fic, but I'll do my best! And I've also been dabbling in my other favorite fandoms and such.**

**Oh, and Zak Saturday is creating a TFA fic! Keep an eye on him! ;)**

* * *

><p>The Slammer<p>

XVII

Cliffjumper raked his digits across the metal of his cell. He had been moved from his holding cell back at home to an actual prison, with actual law-breakers. He wanted out. He was innocent, and he knew it. The red Autobot frowned sternly, and he was still scraping at the wall before him. There was a _shisk_ sound behind him, and a voice spoke:

"Cliffjumper?"

"What?" the red Autobot snapped, not even turning around to meet the voice.

"You have a visitor."

The 'bot on the other side of the door closed the small square window that shifted to the side (it allowed those to peer in without opening the door), and opened the door, allowing a blue and white mech to enter the small cell. The door directly closed behind him. Mirage got a quick glance at his surroundings: a small cell—if one were to completely outstretch his legs (depending how tall he would be, of course), he would be able to brush the tips of his pedes against the opposite wall. Mirage felt cramped and uncomfortable. Pah, it was no wonder why the police would move the prisoner to another room to talk; but Mirage had special permission to do this. Good ol' Council.

"Hello, Cliffjumper," Mirage simply said.

"Oh, Primus," the red 'bot muttered, placing his forehelm against the wall. "Go away."

"Come, now, Cliffjumper. Let's be rational."

Cliffjumper did not respond; he only tapped his helm against the wall in a rhythmic motion—slow and steady. Mirage huffed from his engine, in which a gust expelled from his vents, and he rubbed at the plating that encased his neck cables.

"Is your plan to knock yourself out? Because, if so, just continue what you're doing."

Cliffjumper let out a snarl from parted lip components, and turned to glare hatefully at the blue and white mech. "Will you go away?" he snarled.

"Um, no," Mirage said, shuffling over to sit on the flimsy excuse for a berth. "Might I bring you up to speed with the rest of the universe or would you rather not know?"

Cliffjumper pursed his lips, staring at the Towerling for a moment before letting out a huff from his engine. "Okay, tell me about the outside world," he grumbled, shifting to sit properly on the floor with his back against the wall.

"Well, the High Council had a meeting about Earth and Cybertron relations," Mirage said, crossing his legs daintily.

"Heh, how did that go?" Cliffjumper said, resting his arm on his knee.

"Very well, actually," Mirage answered.

"Really?"

"Oh, yes," Mirage answered. "Optimus Prime spoke well in his defense. He swayed the Council, and he, Optimus, is required to speak to the public about Earth and organics alike. Also, Optimus Prime and his crew are required to bring Ion and her group to Earth as diplomats."

"Why them?" Cliffjumper asked, arching an optic ridge.

"I am unsure," Mirage truthfully answered. "But they were picked."

"Huh. How did the Magnus handle everything?"

"Not well. He doesn't like it one bit."

Cliffjumper groaned, placing a servo to his faceplates, and rubbed. Mirage knew very well of Cliffjumper's like-dislike of Sentinel Prime. He wasn't sure why the red mech even _liked_ the brash blue mech, but there was something that he did indeed like about Sentinel. Mirage wasn't sure as to _what_ it may be, but the little Autobot had respected the much taller mech for what seemed to be for generations. Personally, what Mirage saw was a needy, back-lashing brute and pathetic excuse for a 'bot; truly not Magnus material. Fraggit, he was just about to fall to his knees and pray to the mighty Primus for Ultra to have a speedy recovery.

"How's speedy?"

Mirage snapped his helm up, his arms resting comfortably at his chest-level, and wrapped semi-consciously around his middle abdomen. Blurr. He meant ol' Blurr.

"Oh, he's recovering well," Mirage said, shifting in his positioning only slightly as he gave a lukewarm smile.

Cliffjumper twitched, and let out a grunt. "Alright," he muttered acidly.

Mirage's optics darted from Cliffjumper's sour expression, to his shaking fists, and back to that not-so delightful expression. "Uh-huh," he said, curtly and quickly.

It was silent for a deafening moment.

"So, how are you?" Mirage quickly threw out, not forgetting to add a brimming grin.

Cliffjumper twitched, optics narrowed, and he turned to the once-Towers brat with a seething stare. "Well, I'm sitting in a cell smaller than my home's berthroom," he said, voice laced with annoyance and with hints of iciness that would seep through occasionally, "I haven't had a drink of oil since I was arrested, and all the while, I'm being charged in attempted murder for the first degree. _I'm fraggin' swell_."

Mirage just stared at him, mouth closed into a fine line, optics never leaving the red Autobot, and he felt a distinct chill run up his spinal array. "I'm unsure as to how to respond to that," Mirage answered.

Cliffjumper's engine let out an animalistic snarl.

"Would you like to talk to a professional?"

The red Autobot blinked, and rapidly turned to stare at Mirage. "What?" he asked, unsure if he was hallucinating.

"You know; a professional. A doctor."

"You mean a shrink!"

"Well, if you wish to degrade the pro—"

"I don't need to see Dr. Solarburn!"

"Well, you can't. He had to cancel all his appointments to visit Earth," Mirage said, shaking his helm. "Pity. He'll be on-call. We may never know when they'll even get the okay to visit Earth, and he—"

"I don't need a doctor," Cliffjumper hissed.

"But Solarburn did quite well with your oilholism from what I've seen and read," Mirage stated.

"I still drink."

"But not as much—a cup after dinner is where he wanted you to be, and you did just that." Mirage paused. "You were a nice drunk, just so you know. Sort of a pity you had to stop. We actually got along when you drank."

"Are you done?" Cliffjumper snapped, his balled, and he was ready to leap at the Towerling.

"Sure."

Cliffjumper slumped, folding his arms across his chest, bringing his knees closer to his chest, and his servos fell open, no longer fists. Mirage leaned in, staring at the mech in silence. The red Autobot hung his helm for a moment, staring hard at the reflecting floor, and then turned up to Mirage.

"How is Ultra Magnus?"

Mirage frowned. "He hasn't awakened," he answered swiftly. Mirage couldn't tell him—he didn't have the spark. There was talk about pulling the plug.

The mech secretary cringed, and turned away. He turned to Mirage again.

"You know I didn't do this, right?" he asked, his voice desperate.

Mirage stared. He knew what Cliffjumper meant. _You know I didn't mean to hurt Blurr, right?_ The blue and white Autobot stood up, and gave a benevolent pat to Cliffjumper's bulky right shoulder.

"I know you didn't," he answered, and with that, he left Cliffjumper alone in his cell.

* * *

><p>Hound stood in the waiting room, staring outward as one of his digits traced a groove in his arm plating. He sat, waiting for his dear friend to return. Policebots shuffled around behind him, some holding their mugs of Energon coffee (it was late and they had to stay awake) and talking about whatever was in the news or whatever they were doing here at work. He could have sworn he heard Cliffjumper's name in there somewhere. Hound turned, staring innocently at them before shifting to stare forward again.<p>

"—sure, of course."

Hound perked, turning to where he had heard the voice, and noticed his slender friend at the door, which was located in the back about ten or so feet away. He spoke to a policebot (Hound did not know who he was), and they spoke softly to each other. Mirage had his digits brush against his lips as he nodded to whatever the other Autobot was telling him. Hound knew it was impolite to snoop, but he couldn't exactly help it; he was a scout during the War. It was his _job_ to snoop, as it was Mirage's to spy. The hulking Autobot leaned in towards the two (from his seat, of course), and listened:

"He didn't do this."

"But—"

"Yes, yes, I know. It looks bad, but I know he didn't."

"We had warrant to search his place of residence and work. He had a lot of guns all over the place."

"_Primus_."

"Semi-automatic and some semi-cannons."

"Cliffjumper, you trigger-happy moron."

"Also found a can of half-finished oil stored away in his desk."

Not good. Hound cringed, fearing for the small Autobot.

"I know, but Cliffjumper would never betray the Autobots."

Hound nodded. No, he would never.

"But it still doesn't look good."

"Yes, I know."

And with that, the two broke apart, and Mirage approached Hound. There was a tired smile on his faceplates, and he patted his friend's broad shoulder. Hound jerked, and quickly pretended that he had not heard a single word.

"How'd it go, Raj?" Hound asked as he stood up.

Mirage's smile dimmed. "Well, Cliffjumper's still in trouble," he muttered, reaching up to rub at the back of his helm. "Hound, forgive me for bringing you here to deal with my work."

Hound laughed warmly. Goodness, Mirage loved that laugh. "Oh, nothing to worry about, Raj," he said, clamping a servo to Mirage's thin shoulder. "I'm off, and I don't mind helping you out every once in a while. Do you ever get a break?"

"When I hit the berth," Mirage replied half-sparkedly. It was late, and he was tired.

"C'mon, let's get your chassis home," Hound said, wrapping his arm around his friend's shoulders, and gently pulled him along. "You deserve it."

"And a vacation!" Mirage laughed, allowing his dear friend to pull him along.

"You earned it."

The two laughed warmly as they left the police station.

* * *

><p><em>Sari knew that she was dreaming.<em>

_Everything was white, just like the previous dream, and there was Prowl, sitting stiffly, and stared down at her with a soft expression._

"_Hello, Sari," he greeted coolly._

_She was just going to assume that she had officially lost her mind. This was a dream, and she was crazy with grief. Had the others had similar dreams about Prowl?_

"_Hi, Prowl," she replied, shifting in her place._

_He reached out gently, scooping her lithe form up, and placed her on his slender leg. "You haven't told the others what I told you," Prowl stated._

"_You mean about Sentinel?"_

"_Yes."_

_Sari shifted, gripping her arms tightly with her shaking hands. "How could I have known this?" she whispered to herself._

"_Because I told you."_

"_No, no, you're not real."_

_Prowl stared at her. "You believe that I am nothing but a mere shard of your imagination," he stated slowly._

"_Yes," she answered quickly. "That's what you are; my imagination. None of this is real. You are dead!"_

_He stared, a small frown on his grey lips. "I am dead," Prowl stated softly. "But I'm not part of your imagination."_

"_No, you are."_

_Prowl was silent for a long moment. "Okay, Sari," he said, sadly, and he gently picked her up and placed her onto the "floor" next to them. "Okay."_

_She looked at him, her brows knitted together. She suddenly felt a wave of discomfort and pity as she stared at the Cyber-Ninja before her. "I wish you were real," she whispered. "I wish this—all of this—was real. But you're long gone . . ."_

_He didn't speak._

_And everything vanished._

* * *

><p>Sari awoke with a start.<p>

Sitting on her best friend's chest, she peered out the window of the room they were staying in. Cybertron lay out, beautiful with bright neon lights and colours. All her friends slept—recharged—on their berths, and the only Autobot that was up was Arcee. She sat by the window, staring out as the lights outlined her silhouette.

Sari slipped off the yellow minibot's chest, and stood on the berth. She was unsure as of how to get down, up jumping seemed to be the only option, until she remembered her jetpack. Being as soundless as a mouse, she started her pack, and zipped over to the pink femme. Arcee blinked, surprised to see the techno-organic hovering at her side.

"Sari," she said in a whisper, her optics brightly glowing. "Did I awake you?"

"No," Sari answered, perching herself on Arcee's shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, just looking," the pink femme said, turning to stare out the window again. "During the war, all of this was gone."

"Really?"

"Yes. It was terrible."

"Do you have nightmares about it?"

"Sometimes."

Sari stared, her mouth pressed into a fine line, and she absentmindedly reached up to tug a lock of her hair behind her ear. "You know, Ratchet has nightmares about the war," she said, stretching out her lithe legs.

Arcee turned, a look of surprise on her faceplates. "Really?" she asked.

"Yep," Sari answered. "He told me once, a while ago. I guess it's something a person never gets over."

Arcee let out a ho-hum. "It has a way of sticking with you," she stated softly.

It didn't matter the species—war was terrible. It works its devilish ways into one's thoughts, scaring them forever, and those wounds will never heal, no matter how much time has passed. Sari rubbed at her cheek, and sighed.

"But, everything's okay now," she said, happily, but noiselessly. "War is over, Megatron's been captured, and Autobot forces are out to nab the others. Everything's okay, now."

Arcee smiled girlishly. "You're right," she declared.

A snort from the large green Autobot at their right caused both femmes to be silent for a long moment (servos and hands over their respected mouths) as Bulkhead's engine groaned and he turned over to his side. They stared at him for a moment before smiling at each other, fighting the urge to giggle. Ratchet had watched the two interact with a cracked open optic, and smiled softly as he allowed his body to succumb to the recharge it so desperately needed.

Arcee and Sari continued to speak softly to each other, light illuminating their frames.

* * *

><p>For Ion, the most "normal" thing about her was that she would fall into recharge on her desk. Normally she would be working well into the night and forget the time, and soon would wake up curled up around her desk. However, the femme had not worked last night. Out of mere pathetic habit she had fallen into recharge like this. Oh, Primus, how sad. She groaned, slowly lifting her helm from her desk, and gasping in pain as her plates creaked and groaned from the odd position she was left in.<p>

"Ow, ow," she hissed, slowly straightening her form, until she heard a crack. "Oh, Primus." That was her spinal array. "_Ow_."

She shifted in her seat, trying to crack her spinal array again, and that was when Atomspark opened the front door, and slipped into the room, completely enthusiastic and gleeful. She turned, staring at him.

"Where were you?"

Atomspark grinned as he nosily closed the door with his pede. "Out," he answered, clutching a rather large cup of Energon coffee, and took a long gulp from it. Probably with that mech from before the Council's session from yesterday.

"With who?" she grumbled, rotating her upper half, feeling a pinch at the lower part of her back.

"I forgot his name."

"How nice."

"Climbed out the window."

"Charming."

"Hey, it was hard," Atomspark said. "I was running on no coffee, and I had to climb down several flights." He took another gulp from his coffee. "Plus, he knew it was just interface. No hard feelings."

Ion grumbled, placing her helm face-down to the desk.

"Need a little pick-me-up?" Atomspark asked, waving his ultra strong Energon coffee in front of her faceplates.

She inhaled the aroma, and her fuel tank ached for the liquid in the cup. "Not from your cup," Ion muttered, stretching out her arms and yawned.

"Ow, Ion," Atomspark said, taking a sip from his cup. "That hurts. Right here." He placed a servo right at the covering metal that shielded his spark.

"Funny, your servo goes to where your spark should be," Ion said, shuffling to the kitchen.

Not so surprisingly, Peacemaker sat in his "spot," drinking his beverage minutely, and sat silently. Ion entered, gripping the nearest counter, and shook her helm.

"H-hello, Ion," Peacemaker said, not even turning around to meet her gaze.

"G'morning," Ion slurred.

"Your m-mug by the p-percolator," Peacemaker said, pointing to the rather large mug on the counter. He knew she would awake. She would be the third one to awake in the normal daily routine.

"You're a Primus-send," Ion said, greedily snatching up the mug.

"T-that's illogical," Peacemaker said, turning to stare at her. "It is m-merely routine." He turned, noticing Atomspark leaning against the doorframe. "W-where were you?" he asked quickly.

"Out," Atomspark answered as he left the room.

It was silent, and Peacemaker turned to his dear and old friend. "H-he meant i-interface, d-didn't he?" he inquired.

"Yes," Ion grumbled.

"O-oh."

Ion drank her coffee. Primus, she needed her own place of residence.


	18. Along Came a Wasp and Spider

_**Dunananananananana-Decepticons!**_

**Short chapter. My apologies.**

* * *

><p>Along Came a Wasp and Spider<p>

XVIII

"Me Waspinator stay on this side of island. You Spider-Lady stay on that side."

Listening to the insane ramblings of this half bug, half-Cybertronian was making her mad. Blackarachnia glared at the crouching Waspinator, and sneered.

"Oh, will you shut up," she snapped, her claws raking through the ground. "Stupid wasp."

"Me Waspinator not stupid," the wasp-hybrid hissed. "Me Waspinator smart."

His purple wings trembled as he shuffled around. His claws raked at the ground, digging a shallow hole that was the length of his body. They had been on this island for Primus knows how long, and they were practically running on empty. No Energon, hardly any oil—practically nothing. Blackarachnia felt the burning in her systems, the aching need to refuel was apparent. And she knew that Waspinator was feeling the same thing.

"Sure," she muttered lowly as she watched him remake his ground-berth.

The techno-organic grabbed long and large leaves, and dragged them to rest on the surface of his shallow hole. He rearranged them, trying to make them plush and comfortable so that he can rest on them. His little claws pressed out the leaves, and nestled into them, curling up like a cat. It was late, and the birth of night was upon them. Blackarachnia stared at the wasp-Cybertronian, frowning sternly. She was tired, but if she were to recharge, she may not wake up. But if she were not to recharge, she would run out of energy and go offline quicker. The ex-Autobot leaned against a random tree, and pressed her legs to her chest. She would just have to recharge.

She hated it here. She hated being on Earth. It was hard to find any natural resources that would replenish her systems, and when she did, the oil was crude and was difficult to drink. She had found an oil spring not too far from where she was sitting, but that lug Waspinator had nearly drunk it all out of his greedy, animalistic need. Blackarachnia shifted, staring at the Decepticon logo bluntly pasted on her chest-plate. The Autobots had left her to rot, and now the Decepticons had.

Or had they?

Was that the sound of engine humming?

Blackarachnia glanced up when a circle of light beamed on her. She flinched, and Waspinator, who had been relaxing and falling into slumber, became alive and wild. His body arched, his claws out, wings spread and flapping insanely, and he was ready to strike. The femme Autobot-turned-Decepticon leapt up, joining the other Decepticon's side, and she was also ready to attack. Above, it was a large ship—not human, alien; Cybertronian. It kicked up dust and dirt, blanketing them with the organic debris, which also made it hard for them to see clearly. Waspinator hissed and growled, shifting his body back and forth, unsure if he should attack or wait then attack.

"Me Waspinator want to attack," he snarled, flapping his clear wings.

"Shut up, you idiot," she hissed as the techno-organic at her side. "Don't attack—you stay put." Her clawed servo was out in a swishing motion, and the other techno-organic hissed like a rabid animal at her, but he did not move.

Blackarachnia approached the ship, and faintly twitched when the door popped open. She twitched at the bright light that flushed upon her form. Waspinator trashed in place, glaring hard, and his long, slender tongue-glossa darted from his sharp jaws.

"Well, well, little lady, nice to see you again."

She knew that voice. Blackarachnia tensed at the sugar-laced voice, and narrowed her red optics at him. "Swindle," the Decepticon femme muttered.

"Well, you don't seem happy to see me," Swindle said, stepping out of his aircraft and onto the damp ground below. On his shoulder was someone Blackarachina never saw before—a feathered alien organic with a sly smile on his bright yellow beak. "And what happened to your helmet? You look _garish_ without it."

"Shut up," she hissed. "Who's the organic?"

"This is my dear friend Zeljo Ma'le," Swindle stated, grinning as his large gold and purple servo motioned towards the critter sitting on his shoulder.

"Oh, Swindle, you flatter me," Zeljo said, his long ears twitching, and his clawed-hand pressed to his chest.

"Oh, no, I don't flatter you, I only speak the truth."

Blackarachnia glanced between the two of them, disgusted and angered. "Enough with the platitude," she hissed like a snake. "What do you want?"

Swindle arched an optic ridge to her, and his digits laced together. "Say, spidey, have you heard about good ol' Megatron and the others in his command?" he asked, grinning.

"No, if you haven't noticed, I've been stuck on this rock with the psycho behind me, and haven't been keeping up with the news," Blackarachnia said around an acidy snarl.

Swindle glanced over the femme's shoulder, staring at the wasp-like half-Cybertronian that shuffled like an enraged tiger in a tiny cage. Zeljo muttered under his breath in his native tongue, and his elongated tail gave a flick of annoyance.

"Well, the Autobots captured them."

This surprised the femme. "I-is this true?"

"Yes," Zeljo stated. "He's locked away with a . . . who are the rest?"

"Blitzwing, Shockwave, Lugnut—the lot you were with," Swindle stated with a wave of his servo.

"Starscream?"

"He is offline."

She scoffed at this. "Figures," Blackarachina said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Where is his body?"

"The humans took it, I believe," Swindle answered.

"For what?"

"I dunno, and I could really care less," Swindle stated with an uncaring shrug of his shoulder plates (being cautious of Zeljo all the while).

"Is this why you've come?" the femme inquired, allowing her arms to drop to her sides. "To tell me the news?"

"No, to make a deal, yes," Zeljo said, ears twitching.

Blackarachina stared at the organic alien perched like a parrot on the smaller Decepticon's shoulder. "What deal?" she asked.

Swindle glanced past her, and motioned at Waspinator. "Hey, big guy," he called in a sickening-sweet way.

Waspinator shifted, perking up with surprise at the small purple and dusty-gold Decepticon calling to him.

"Yes, you, come this way, big buddy," Swindle called, grinning with his purple optics matching. "Come over here."

Blackarachina cringed, and stared at the both of them sharply. "Why must he come?" she spat. The femme didn't want this lumbering idiot with her.

"We need all the help we can get," Zeljo said with smiling eyes and a wave of a talon-finger. "We would like both of you with us, yes."

Blackarachnia just wanted to slap or claw at the both of them, but she remained put as the lumbering wasp-Cybertronian joined her side, growling and practically foaming at the mouth.

"Me Waspinator want to know what feather-alien and small Decepticon want," he snarled, eyes wild and insane—not an ounce of sanity left in them.

"_Small_," Swindle whined, but there was an obvious tone of underlying anger in it.

Zeljo eyed the Decepticon he was perched upon, and let out a little huff. "Ignore that," he said, eyes fluttering before he gave both of them a little smile. "We would like you to join us, yes."

"Pah, for what reason?" the femme sneered.

"Well, as I have already told you, Lord Megatron was captured by the Autobots," Swindle said, regaining his composure from Waspinator's little comment. "We wish to free him."

Blackarachnia stared at the both of them with surprise. "You mean, break them out of jail?" she said, astonishment in her voice.

"Precisely," Zeljo said with a smirk.

"But we need an army to do that," Swindle stated.

"And we figured that you would want in—both of you," Zeljo said, lacing his fingers together.

"Would you?"

It was true—the plan was to find an army strong enough to fight the Autobots and free Megatron, and thus, the war would start again. To Zeljo and Swindle, war meant arms, arms meant money; _money meant power_. But, of course, the others couldn't know their plan, and surely Swindle could not allow Zeljo to know that he plans to kill him later on for his fortune once this plan was completed. Little did he know, but Zeljo was planning the same thing. Let's keep this all hush-hush, right, Zeljo and Swindle?

Blackarachnia considered it for just a moment. "What will be in it for the both of you?" she asked, optics narrowed. "Why do you want to?"

Swindle and Zeljo gave each other a knowing smirk. "Well, my fine friend," Swindle said, grinning all the while, "we can't let those pesky Autobots win, now, can we?"

"W-well, no."

"And especially after what they did to _you_, my dear."

The femme froze in place, memories rushing back to her, and she felt sick and all alone once more. Optimus and Sentinel _leaving her behind_; she glanced up, her red optics flaring, and a smile upon her lips—an evil smile. "I will join," she said.

Swindle clasped his servos together in a joyful manner. "Great!" he said with a grin. He turned to Waspinator. "And you?"

The second techno-organic stared dully at the business bot before speaking: "Me Waspinator want revenge on Autobot Bumble-bot. Me Waspinator join if me Waspinator can kill Bumble-bot."

Zeljo gave a wicked grin. "Then welcome to the club," he said.

Waspinator puffed out his chest, roared like a savage, and with a mighty burst of energy, pushed past them and entered the airship. The sounds of his claws upon the metal flooring of the machine could be heard from outside.

"Hey, don't scratch up my floors," Swindle yelled, chasing after the savage techno-organic.

Blackarachnia stood outside for just a moment, had a final look at the stars above, and joined the others on the spaceship.


End file.
